


Muscles and Scars

by LuckyPanda13



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, BDSM, Bigotry, Cock Rings, Dirty Talk, Dom The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus Has Issues, Dorian Pavus Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, God bless my NSA agent for dealing with my Google searches, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I have a problem, IT'S FINALLY DONE!, Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Light Angst, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, No Beta, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Dorian Pavus, Praise Kink, Protective The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Rescue Missions, Rope Bondage, Sub Dorian Pavus, Sweet The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), The Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus-centric, Torture, What Have I Done, Why Is This So Long?, save me from myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-30 18:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 120,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20451725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyPanda13/pseuds/LuckyPanda13
Summary: Dorian knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he had an unhealthy obsession with the Iron Bull. Maybe it was his muscles, maybe it was the scars, maybe it was the gravelly voice... It didn't really matter what it was because Dorian wasn't stupid enough to act on it.And, if he was lucky, the Iron Bull wouldn't notice.





	1. Making Friends

Dorian was certain that the big Qunari who had accompanied the Herald was going to approach him at some point. He was the ‘Vint, the intruder, the outsider. Whatever the little inner group had come across prior to meeting him, they had gotten close enough that he could feel the distance. The Herald was trying, bless her, to get closer to him, though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Dorian knew that he was an outsider to the Inquisition and would remain so for his, likely short, arrangement with them. He tried not to let the distance upset him. It did, regardless, but he tried to pretend it didn’t. He had been an outsider enough with his own people. Honestly, it shouldn’t have even bothered him at all, all things considered.

Still, it hurt not to have friends. Or family.

The Herald, or Ellana as she _insisted_ (see: threatened) he call her, was flirting with him unabashedly. He felt a little uncomfortable with flirting back, but something about the twinkle in her eyes told him she knew it didn’t mean anything. He said something utterly outrageous, sending her into a giggle fit and spotted not the Qunari, but his second-in-command, lingering on the steps behind the Herald (_Ellana!_ He was going to need to practice.)

As soon as she left, making her way up to the Chantry, the second-in-command approached Dorian, cautiously.

“You’re a ‘Vint.” The accent was what gave him away. Dorian would recognize another Tevene accent anywhere.

“As are you.” Dorian nodded.

“Not a magister, though.” He was practically glaring daggers.

“What a coincidence, neither am I.” He would have thought another from Tevinter would know the difference between a mage from Tevinter and a magister, but alas not.

“You’re an Altus. Same difference.”

“Close, but even Soporati know the difference between an Altus and a magister.” Dorian knew insulting the other man wasn’t the smartest decision, but all the suspicion was starting to get at him. He’d have to suck it up and learn to deal with it better. He’d be under intense suspicion as long as he was with the Inquisition.

“Why are you here?”

“Looking at that dreadful thing has given me quite the headache. I’d like to remove the eyesore from the picturesque skyline.” Sass had always been his go-to, especially when under scrutiny. It got him into trouble with his parents often enough.

Oddly enough, the other ‘Vint actually smiled at that.

“Are you gonna be a problem for the Chief?”

It took Dorian a moment to connect “the Chief” with the massive Qunari looming at the front gates.

“I would ideally like to avoid him at all possible,” he replied honestly, “The last thing I need is to recreate the silly war between us.” His words felt hollow when his brain slowly put together that the ‘Vint before him was the Qunari’s _second-in-command_. Obviously, he didn’t have a problem with all ‘Vints, otherwise they wouldn’t work so closely together.

“The Chief’ll come talk to you on his own time,” the man interrupted Dorian’s thoughts. Good thing, too, because Dorian was seriously considering slapping himself with how stupid he was. “He’ll want to keep the air clear, make sure our employment stays steady.”

“I’ll do nothing to jeopardize the Chargers’ employment with the Inquisition. Frankly, it’s none of my business.” Dorian found himself being frightfully honest within the Inquisition. It was partially a defense mechanism from being suspected of everything and anything, but he also found it a bit freeing. Growing up in Tevinter had forced him into the Game way too quickly. Well, the Tevinter version of the Game, which was way less back-stabby and way more blood magic-y than the Orlesian variety. (Maker, he was spending too much time with the Herald if he was starting to think like she talked.) He liked being able to just say his thoughts without worry to political ramifications.

“Good.” The other ‘Vint nodded and held out his hand. “Cremisius Aclassi, call me Krem. I’m the Chief’s lieutenant.”

“Dorian Pavus. I’m no one.” Dorian took the hand with sweaty palms. Only the two of them knew how serious and trusting a handshake was. Dorian was a little awe-struck that the other ‘Vint would offer such trust with so little information.

“Pavus isn’t a ‘no one’ name,” Krem pointed out, showcasing that he was familiar with the noble families in Tevinter. Many Soporati didn’t care enough, living their lives in their own little bubble and trying to survive.

“It is when you’ve been disowned.” Dorian took his hand back, trying not to be giddy by the fact that the only other person from Tevinter was _trusting him_. It was weird. There was no reason for Krem to trust him in the slightest. Especially not when they came from two so drastically different classes.

“In that case, welcome to the land of misfits,” Krem replied, wryly, “Don’t do anything creepy here and I won’t cut your head off.”

Dorian could tell that “creepy” was shorthand for “blood magic-y”. He didn’t have a chance to respond though, because Krem walked away.

Two days later, Krem had regularly been talking to Dorian, for reasons Dorian couldn’t fathom. He would have guessed that the lieutenant would stay as far from him as humanly possible, yet it seemed the ‘Vint was _willingly_ seeking out his company. They always parted with a friendly reminder that Krem was watching him and would _totally_ kill him if he did something stupid.

The Herald caught the threat once, and not-so-subtly glowered at Krem until he left. Dorian had to explain that it was actually nice to be threatened so blatantly. He was used to the backstabbing corners of Tevinter and the Game. Honesty was refreshing.

“Well, if someone does something or says something, let me know.” She turned her glower to one of the soldiers eyeing how close they were standing. Her fingers tightened on the handle of one of her knives and the soldier looked away quickly. “I won’t have infighting.”

“Of course, my dear Herald.” Dorian grinned and let the woman swat at him with a growling reminder to “call me Ellana, damn it!” He wasn’t certain that even the Herald of Andraste could stop the others from their prejudices and suspicions.

Dorian was part of the party to rescue the Inquisition forces from the Fallow Mire (a ghastly, but entirely appropriately-named place in Ferelden). Though he was constantly being watched while at the base at Haven, he hadn’t expected such vitriol from the soldiers he _helped rescue_. Which, honestly, he should have. But spending time with the Herald and Krem had made him feel a little less like an outsider. Big mistake.

They had defeated the Avaar, big thanks to the Iron Bull (the big Qunari even had a name it seemed) for distracting that brute. Dorian was on notice to heal any of the soldiers who were wounded. Not that he was great at healing, but enough time on his own and traveling with a fighting party made him brush up and learn some new skills. As soon as the Herald (Ellana; he’d figure this out eventually) had the door open, she stepped inside to get a good look at the soldiers.

“Dorian, his leg.” She pointed as her eyes ran over the group. Dorian knelt next to the man, who flinched and tried to scramble away from him. Shock slapped Dorian before he remembered what he was. A Tevinter mage far, _far_ from home. Not that Tevinter was _really_ home anymore. Not with what had happened.

“Just need a bandage, milady.” The soldier refused to even _look_ at him.

“Nonsense.” The Herald stood over Dorian’s shoulder. “You can’t even put weight on that leg. Let him heal you and we can get out of here.”

“I can walk!” The soldier defended.

“I can help him,” another soldier piped up, sliding between the injured man and Dorian protectively. The Herald put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, her eyes narrowing.

“We don’t have another healer here. If that injury gets infected before we get back to Haven, you’re going to lose that leg. And you’re willing to just throw it away because you hate Dorian? For _no_ reason?” Her voice was calm, but everyone could tell the Herald was _pissed_.

“It’s all right,” Dorian said quietly, getting to his feet and backing away from the injured man.

“It’s _not_ all right.” She gritted her teeth for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Let’s get out of here.” She kept her hand on Dorian’s arm, fingers tight against his forearm. They led the group from the stronghold silently. “I’m so sorry, Dorian.”

“It’s not personal,” Dorian murmured to her, “it’s just that I’m a ‘Vint. Old prejudices die hard.”

“It _is_ personal,” Lavellan argued, “you are more than just where you’re born. We have a _Qunari spy_ who commands less distrust than you.”

“Can’t argue with that, Boss.” The Iron Bull’s voice was soft, but it still made Dorian jump. “But ‘Vints got blood magic. All I’ve got is horns and a big fucking axe.”

“Not all ‘Vints do blood magic. And some mages from the rest of the world _do_ perform blood magic,” Lavellan snapped, “Tevinter doesn’t have exclusive rights to atrocities in the world!”

Dorian felt his gut clench at her adamant defense of his country. No matter its faults, he still loved Tevinter. He wished it could be as good as it pretended it was.

“Lavellan…” Dorian spoke quietly to try to calm her down, “we can discuss this later. Let’s just get back to the camp first, yes?”

The elf huffed and dropped her hand from his arm, stomping ahead to try to calm her anger. When people insulted her and distrusted her, she could keep her head all day and all night. But the _instant_ someone even _thought_ something against one of her own, Lavellan turned into a mother dragon. Dorian was surprised that he had become one of her own in the short time he had known her. He hadn’t expected such loyalty _ever_, much less so fast.

“You saved her life.” The Iron Bull was still behind him. Dorian jumped again and gave the Qunari an irritated glance. “Boss takes that personally. Don’t abuse that.”

“Maker knows I couldn’t even if I tried.” Dorian rolled his eyes hard. “She’s too smart for that.”

The Iron Bull huffed out a grunt of agreement. They didn’t speak again until they were back in Haven.


	2. Making Enemies

Dorian had managed, with the persuasion of coin, to get a bottle of wine from the tavern. Not that he’d drink it in there, with so many eyes and so much suspicion and distrust it was choking the air, but he’d still gotten a bottle. He had a little cot in the building Adan had claimed as his workshop (and _only_ because he assisted Adan regularly in his potion-brewing), and it was the only place that could be considered private for him. Adan hated people lurking in his space, and everyone knew it. As such, people rarely intruded on Dorian in the building. Adan would’ve chased them out with a wooden spoon had they even lingered in the doorway too long.

Dorian didn’t have any goblets or glasses, so he drank straight from the bottle. Just a sip here or there, helping to relax him. Also to make the bottle last longer. He didn’t think it wise to try to beg alcohol off the bartender regularly. He didn’t think he’d get poisoned, but he also didn’t want to get on anyone’s bad side. And Maker knew people were territorial about their drinking.

“Got a lot of nerve invading our camp, ‘Vint.” Dorian glanced up from his intense staring contest with his cot to see five men standing in the doorway. A quick glance told him Adan (and his only form of protection) was not there. Something must have called him away, as the man was a notorious workaholic. Dorian suspected the five men before him probably had something to do with it.

“I was invited here, by the illustrious Herald of Andraste, herself. I have invaded nothing.” Dorian knew, as soon as the words were out of his mouth that nothing short of groveling and begging and promising to leave _that very instant_ would have calmed the situation down. And maybe not even that. The leader of the little gang was wearing iron gauntlets. Dorian felt them quite clearly when the punch landed on his temple. Two more hits to his chest and he was on the floor, blinking heavily through the gash pouring blood down his face and trying to restart his brain.

He couldn’t fight back. Nobody would believe that he didn’t start it if his attackers had _any_ injury on them whatsoever. He couldn’t talk his way out of it. They were dead set on beating him before they even entered the building. He couldn’t escape. There were five of them and probably more watched the exits, making sure he couldn’t get away. He had to just protect whatever of him he could and try to survive. He couldn’t use his magic to do it either. _Any_ magic at all and they’d cry foul. If they didn’t beat him to death, he’d have to figure out a new place to put his cot. Somewhere safer, preferably.

A loud crash interrupted the boots attempting to kick at his gut. He had curled up in a ball enough such that they weren’t breaking his ribs, but it still hurt like fuck. Dorian didn’t bother looking up, just curled up tighter on himself, trying to protect as much as himself as possible.

“Hey, ‘Vint.” The Iron Bull’s voice was so out of place that Dorian peered around his arms with the one eye not blinded with blood. He caught sight of the five soldiers groaning in misery on the ground behind the massive Qunari. Then his gaze focused on the Iron Bull’s large hand, fingers stretched out in an offering for help. Well, most of the fingers. Two of the digits were missing a piece. Strange that Dorian would focus on that. His head was ringing. Maybe it was the concussion raging in his skull.

“Hey.” The Iron Bull was blurry past his fingers, but Dorian could hear the concern. He blinked hard and took the hand tightly. As soon as the Qunari started pulling him upright, Dorian felt every bruise on his torso. He wheezed out a breath of pain and doubled-over.

“Shit. Sorry.” The Iron Bull helped him all the way to his feet and tilted his head a bit, glancing over Dorian’s wounds. Dorian couldn’t make out the expression on the Qunari’s face. He wasn’t able to focus that much. “Dorian?”

“Fine.” Even Dorian could tell his voice was slurred.

“Come on, ‘Vint. Let’s get you fixed up.” The Iron Bull kicked one of the soldiers aside and offered an arm to keep Dorian upright. Dorian was actually disappointed that he had been relegated back to “’Vint’” when his name sounded so nice coming from the Iron Bull’s deep, rich timbre. He shook his head and regretted that decision immediately when his vision swam and his body swayed. He toppled into the Iron Bull’s chest. It was a fairly nice chest. Loads of scars, but big and broad and made of pure muscle. Dorian liked it.

“Don’t need fixing,” he muttered. Did his legs work? He’d have to check.

“Try again.” The Iron Bull didn’t sound amused in the slightest. Maybe he was mad at Dorian? Everyone seemed to be mad at Dorian. “I’m not mad at _you_, Dorian.”

His name sounded nice in that gravelly rough voice.

“’m fine,” Dorian insisted, “just need a minute to…” He lost his train of thought as the Iron Bull helped him hobble from the building.

“To…?”

Dorian looked at the big grey chest next to him for a long moment before turning around and vomiting all over the snow bank outside the front door.

“Shit.”

Dorian coughed and gagged for a few moments, waiting to make sure his stomach decided to stop roiling before he straightened. His ribs and gut ached and he couldn’t think straight.

“All right, let’s get you taken care of.” The Iron Bull swept Dorian into his arms with a gentleness Dorian didn’t expect, though he did protest being carried about. “It’s late; no one will notice.” It took about three steps for Dorian to give in and let his body relax in the Qunari’s arms. He was too tired and too much in pain to care much of propriety at the moment. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the pain.

When he next came to, he was lying on a cot, he was naked from the waist up (which meant he was freezing from the waist up), and he was in a tent with Krem and one of the other Chargers, though Dorian hadn’t met them so he didn’t know the man’s name. Dorian could see the massive silhouette of the Iron Bull looming outside the tent entrance behind Krem. His head was still pounding, but the pain in his torso had dulled to an ache.

“What…?” His voice sounded awful, but at least he wasn’t slurring anymore. He thought about sitting up, but the other man put a hand on his shoulder to keep him still.

“You’re safe, ‘Vint,” Krem promised, “Stitches here is taking good care of you. You’ll have to drink some of his nasty-ass potions, though.”

“They’re _poultices,_” Stitches corrected automatically, like it was an old, familiar argument.

“What?” Dorian was trying to think straight, but he kept coming up with how goddamned cold it was in Ferelden.

“What do you remember?” Krem asked, patiently, while Stitches bustled around Dorian on the cot.

“I had the shit kicked out of me,” Dorian said, “the Iron Bull showed up. Now, I’m here.”

“The Chief saw the idiots headed your way, figured they were up to some bullshit. He brought you back here. Stitches can’t heal everything, but at least you didn’t break anything.”

“Concussion, bruised ribs, bruises all over the torso, cut and bruise on the left temple, bruises on the forearms,” Stitches intoned, almost under his breath, “you’re lucky it’s mostly bruises. Poultices heal those real quick.”

“They don’t heal concussions,” Dorian pointed out.

“You’ve still got yours,” Stitches replied.

“That would explain why my skull is trying to crack open.” Dorian groaned and shut his eyes.

“Can’t you heal yourself?” Krem asked.

“Can,” Dorian replied, “but need to focus. Hard to focus with a concussion.”

“Try.” The Iron Bull’s voice made Dorian shiver in a way that was entirely inappropriate given the circumstances.

“Bossy,” Dorian muttered under his breath, mostly to remind himself that the man was a Qunari spy who was probably already compiling a report on how the weakling Tevinter Altus got beat up because he couldn’t fight back against the soldiers. It didn’t help, just made him feel more awful.

Half an hour, a couple of disgusting poultices, and some healing magic later, Dorian was starting to feel semi-human again. He was still semi-bruised, but the cut on his head had sealed and was now merely another bruise. The Iron Bull hadn’t moved from his position outside the tent, though he stepped aside to let Stitches out. And Krem was still sitting by Dorian’s side, obediently handing over the clothes and pieces of Dorian’s chest armor one bit at a time. It was too damn cold in Ferelden to go without clothing.

“Why?” He asked the other ‘Vint softly. Krem hummed a question in response. “Why did you help me? Why do you even _care_?”

“The Chief.” Krem shrugged as if that were all the answer in the world. Dorian snorted and settled on the cot.

“I am the embodiment of everything that ever hurt you in your life. Why would you ever help me?” Krem hadn’t told Dorian his story, they weren’t friendly enough for that, but Dorian was no fool. Krem was a Soporati that much was obvious, and probably was in the army. He was too good a fighter for anything else. If he was in a mercenary band traveling in Orlais and Ferelden, he was a deserter. That was more than enough to tell Dorian than Tevinter hadn’t been kind to the mercenary.

Krem took a moment to ponder his answer. He glanced at the big, lurking shadow of his leader behind him and sighed. When he turned back, he met Dorian’s gaze without a hint of emotion.

“The Chief told me to find out what kind of ‘Vint you were,” he admitted. Dorian thought as much. “’m not Ben-Hassrath, but I can read other ‘Vints pretty well. You’re not like the other magisters I’ve met.”

Dorian almost rolled his eyes. One day, he’d get it through people’s thick skulls that he _was not a magister_.

“Sorry, Altus,” Krem corrected.

“What if I’m just playing the long game? Luring you into a false sense of security by not acting like other ‘Vints?” Dorian couldn’t help the sarcasm in his tone. He’d heard it too much.

“Nah.” Krem actually _smiled_. Dorian was very confused. “You’re a ball of mush.”

Dorian wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. Being a ball of mush was apparently what was giving him allies, but it didn’t seem particularly masculine or heroic to be a ball of mush.

“Pardon me, I’m a bit confused.” Dorian blinked carefully.

“You’re not like other ‘Vints,” Krem repeated, calmly, “you _care_. I’ve seen it. Plus, you like being able to be blunt and honest. Saw it the first time we talked. You’re not a spy. You wouldn’t be good at it.”

Dorian was certain he was supposed to be offended, but he couldn’t find the energy to care.

“So, you talk to me because I’d be a bad spy?”

“I talk to you to gather information for the Chief.”

“And you say _I’m_ a bad spy. Aren’t you _not_ supposed to tell your mission to others?”

“Tell that to the Chief. He told the Herald straight away what he was doing.”

“Fair point.”

“Look,” Krem waited until he had Dorian’s focus, “we’ve talked enough and been honest with each other enough that you should know: the Chargers like you.”

“_Why?_” Dorian had no idea where that had come from. He’d gone out of his way to avoid the Chargers (well, except Krem) to stay away from the Iron Bull.

“Because you’re funny and you care and you’ve healed each of us at least once at this point.”

Dorian didn’t remember that bit.

“Point is: we like you well enough. You should spend more time with the others.”

“And maybe we’ll all be braiding each other’s hair by next week,” Dorian muttered.

“Maybe. But I think Dalish is the only one with hair long enough and she’d probably stab you before you could try.” Krem shrugged.

The Iron Bull cleared his throat and Krem’s spine straightened.

“The Chief wants a word.” He got up and left the tent. The Iron Bull somehow managed to fit within the tent, though Dorian wasn’t really sure how. Even with magic, he figured it was a lost cause fitting a being that large in a tent this small. Nevertheless, the Iron Bull fit his entire frame (and horns!) within the fabric walls. Dorian noticed Krem’s shadow stay close to the tent. He felt a little better about having the closest person to a real friend he had nearby. (Though Lavellan would punch him if she wasn’t considered one of his friends.)

“You should stay with the Chargers,” the Iron Bull spoke without preamble.

“Pardon?” Dorian wasn’t sure his brain was right. Sure, he healed the concussion, but conversations were getting weird.

“The Chargers like you, like Krem said. No one comes and messes around our camp either. You’ll be safer here.”

Succinct and true. But still, Dorian was hesitant to accept. Something was fishy here. The Qunari spy shouldn’t have been inviting him in without cause or suspicion. Maybe his orders were to befriend him?

“And we should tell the Herald.”

“No,” Dorian rejected that outright, “absolutely not.”

“Well, Cullen at the very least,” the Iron Bull insisted, “he’s got to keep order in his ranks.”

“Look, tattling to the teacher is all well and good when the stakes are an extra dessert at supper. This is my life we’re speaking of.” Dorian shook his head. Mistake. His head still ached from the concussion. “They would have _killed_ me tonight. I can’t chance pissing them off like that.”

The Qunari considered that, his eye eerily focused on Dorian.

“If there are no repercussions, they’ll try again,” he pointed out.

“They had their heads bashed together by a Qunari,” Dorian retorted.

“Which isn’t so much a repercussion as it is me allying myself with you. Now, they’ll know to bring more people to fight off both of us.”

“Yes, but me even _having_ allies could dissuade them.”

“Or it could get them more fired up.”

“What? I’m brainwashing people now?”

“They already think you’ve enchanted the Herald.”

Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes. People, he decided, were stupid.

“I don’t want to escalate the situation,” he said, softly, “and I don’t want to put anybody in their cross-hairs. It’s me they want.”

“Too late.” The Iron Bull crossed his massive arms. It distracted Dorian’s frazzled mind. Nobody’s biceps should be that defined. “I’ve already put myself in the middle of this. And, frankly, the Chargers wouldn’t let me stand alone even if I wanted to.”

“Damn right!” Krem added.

“Okay.” Dorian gave in with a sigh. He could tell a losing battle when he saw one. And, it would be nice not having to fend for himself by himself. Though, he was certain he wouldn’t be making friends with anyone, no matter what Krem insisted. “I’ll stay here with the Chargers. But let’s not go to Cullen just yet. Maybe things will calm down now that they’ve got it out of their system.”

“Or maybe now that they’ve scented your blood they’ll be even worse.”

“You know, I used to think _I_ was pessimistic.” Dorian rolled his eyes.

“Get some rest.” The Iron Bull shifted, like he was about to leave. Not that he could _stand_. “I won’t tell Cullen. For now.”

“And the Chargers?” Dorian couldn’t help but ask. He didn’t much trust the spy, which he felt was a valid reason not to trust somebody.

“I couldn’t stop their yapping even if I wanted to.”

With a chuckle, the Iron Bull left the tent.

“This tent is in the middle of the Chargers tents.” Krem poked his head back inside. “It’s a spare we had, so it’s yours now.”

“Why are you being so nice? You’re mercenaries,” Dorian asked.

“We were all bullied and thrown away like trash at one point.” Krem shrugged. “’Sides, Chief said you were buddy-buddy with the Herald. If she likes you and we protect you, she’ll like us, too.”

Dorian couldn’t really find fault with that logic.


	3. Yeah, He's Hot

Dorian knew his attackers by sight the next morning. He was sitting by himself at the fire, stirring whatever gloppy substance was determined to be breakfast. He figured he should probably eat it but was busy working up the courage to even put it in his mouth.

“Sparkler!” Varric settled down on the log next to him with his own bowl of mysterious slop.

“You _do_ know that no one else is going to see that nickname as harmless, hm?” Dorian asked. Varric seemed to be the only one who bought his story, aside from Leliana and Lavellan (though Lavellan liked to see the best in people and Leliana probably had stalked his entire life out). As such, Varric was one of the few who didn’t seem to mind being near him. Dorian wouldn’t call them friends, but Varric was at least _friendly_. Dorian made the effort to be friendly back.

“I don’t know; the kids love it.” Varric shot him a smirk and stirred his bowl thoughtfully. “Say, what’s going on with all the glaring?”

“Hmm?” Dorian followed Varric’s eye line to a cadre of bruised men. They glowered at him like they could kill him with their thoughts. “Ah, yes. Ardent admirers of mine. They’re fascinated with Tevinter fashion.”

“Looks more like they’re trying to learn Qunari fashion,” Varric suggested.

“They _do_ seem rather poorly dressed,” Dorian agreed.

The group seemed to come to a consensus and started walking across the yard towards Dorian with purpose. Shit.

“Now, this food looks horrible!” Krem plopped on the log on Dorian’s other side. Grim grunted in agreement as he settled on the neighboring log. Dorian abruptly found himself surrounded by Bull’s Chargers. The men all froze. With identical snarls, they returned to their side of the yard, grumbling the whole while.

“Sure about that ‘leaving you alone’ thing?” Dorian jumped at the Iron Bull’s deep voice resonating behind him.

“Of course.” He gave the Qunari an irritated glance. Nothing that big should be that quiet.

“Mm hm.” The Iron Bull crossed his arms and watched the men carefully, blatantly ignoring his crew and the food.

Which was how Dorian ended up eating all his meals for the next fortnight: surrounded by the Chargers with the Iron Bull lurking at his back, a scowl on his face, and murder in his eye. It was weird. Somehow, Dorian had become part of the group. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with that knowledge. But when Dalish came to him to speak in private about her “arrows” and “how to sharpen them better”, Dorian realized that he’d been informally adopted into Bull’s Chargers.

Not that they managed to keep all the harassment away. No matter how much they tried, even the Chargers couldn’t be with Dorian all day, every day. The men kept their distance, though. He was mostly just pelted with rocks and ice balls when he walked around. A cut here or a bruise there and they were satisfied for a short while. Luckily, he was never hit with food, though that was because the Inquisition barely had enough food as it was, much less enough to get rotten. Only once did the group attempt to corner Dorian. The leader managed to get one punch in before the Iron Bull walked around the corner. His mere presence backed them off, much to Dorian’s relief.

Still, the Iron Bull kept his distance, even when his Chargers didn’t. It wouldn’t do to admit it, but Dorian noticed. And tried not to say anything. He didn’t really succeed. Lavellan took both he and the Iron Bull (along with Sera, oddly enough) to the Storm Coast not a day after Rocky tried to convince Dorian to help test out his newest explosive. Dorian was following along behind their fearless Herald, blatantly avoiding looking at the sea (because getting seasick on a boat was one thing; being seasick on land would be quite too much, honestly), when his stupid mouth ran away from him (as it was want to do).

“I hope it doesn’t bother you to travel alongside a ‘Vint, Iron Bull.”

The damn Qunari didn’t even react to Dorian speaking.

“That what you are?” The Iron Bull replied lightly, “you people all kinda look the same to me.”

Dorian thought about being offended for a moment, but decided it was probably a compliment in a roundabout, weird, Qunari way.

“I’m also a mage,” he pointed out, “would you prefer me bound and leashed?”

“I’d buy you dinner first.”

It took him a full second to realize what he had said and how the Iron Bull had interpreted it. He felt himself flush (for the first time in a long time) and deliberately turned his mind away from the gutter.

“Hopefully before you sewed my mouth shut.”

“Depends on how much you keep yapping.” The Iron Bull shot a smirk over his shoulder to let Dorian know he was kidding. Dorian rolled his eyes in response, making sure the Qunari could see the movement. His smirk widened and he turned back away from Dorian, showing off the rippling muscles of his back.

Dorian could tell, based on the eye, the brace, and the missing fingers, that the Iron Bull was well-seasoned. Even before he had witnessed the man fight, it was obvious just in his build. He was large, and it was easy to think he was bulky, but the more Dorian looked (and he couldn’t help it, he was only human, for Andraste’s sake!), the more he realized that the Iron Bull was anything but. The definition in his form was deceptive. One would think he would be slow based on size alone, but Dorian had seen more than once how quick the Iron Bull was. There was a hidden elegance to how he was built. Like a stronghold. Large, sturdy, and resilient, but still somehow… beautiful.

Dorian had always been attracted to muscles, and he knew it. The Iron Bull was built precisely the way Dorian would have imagined an ideal lover. Which meant he was dangerous. Not that it kept Dorian from looking. The Iron Bull’s back was a treasure trove of scars etching his bulk into proper form. All he wanted to do was taste every line he could see (and all the ones he couldn’t). Luckily, since the Iron Bull didn’t have eyes in the back of his head, Dorian could get away with looking. So, he looked his fill. It helped keep his mind off the roiling waters nearby. (And that was his excuse if he got caught.)

When they traveled, they had their own tiny tents in their packs, but they never really needed them. Lavellan was really good at navigating and knew how to get them back to the main camp before nightfall without fail. The downside to being part of the rest of the camp was that they shared tents. So, Dorian had the unfortunate (he was such a bad liar) luck of sharing with the Iron Bull. Mainly because no one wanted to share with a Qunari _or_ a ‘Vint. The problem came when they went to sleep and Dorian got to stare at the specimen before him. He tried not to (not very hard), but never succeeded.

“Go to sleep, ‘Vint,” the Iron Bull muttered. Dorian jumped and rolled over, his face burning. He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder. The Iron Bull had a smug smile on his lips, though his eye was still shut. Ass.

The next day, Dorian had to prod again, to find out why the Iron Bull was so cold when his Chargers weren’t.

“Nothing at all, Bull?” He asked, following along up the steep, mountainous slope, “no problem having a ‘Vint behind you?” He was lagging a bit behind, from the rocky terrain and the fact that it was too damn cold and he wasn’t particularly used to hauling himself all over a ravine.

“Hope you like the view.” Dorian blinked at the grey hand in his view. The Iron Bull had stopped long enough to offer him a hand up the next boulder. And he looked pretty damn attractive in that position, damn him. He had a light smirk and a tiny sheen of sweat that, for some obscene reason, just made Dorian want to lick him all over. _Yes_, Dorian enjoyed the view _very_ much.

Dorian felt his cheeks start to burn and tried to shove it back by reminding himself that his people had been at war with the Qunari for centuries. Nothing like realism to ruin a crush. Not that it was a crush, since he just though the Iron Bull was attractive and that’s where any sort of feelings ended, thank you very much.

“You can’t deny you enjoy butchering my people.” Dorian decided to ignore the Iron Bull’s comment entirely. Though, he _did_ take the proffered hand. The Iron Bull hauled him up the boulder like he weighed nothing.

“Hey, butchering implies I’m gonna eat ‘em,” he pointed out, “most ‘Vints are just gristle and fat in a red wine marinade.”

“Well, _that_ much is true,” Dorian agreed with a little head tilt. It was only then that he realized that the Iron Bull hadn’t let go of his hand. And Dorian hadn’t stepped away yet. Dorian blinked up at the Qunari, fighting his blush with all his power.

“Guys!” Lavellan called from ahead of them. “I found a thing!”

“Is it glowing?” Dorian was distracted from the Iron Bull’s proximity by the idea that the Herald would do something silly like touch a glowing thing. (She _claimed_ she only did it once, but once was more than enough for Dorian.)

“No…”

“Don’t touch it!” He hurried up the slope to find out what Lavellan had found. Luckily, she hadn’t touched it (_yet_), but it definitely _was_ glowing.


	4. Closing the Breach

It only took another fortnight before Lavellan felt confident enough to attempt closing the Breach. Dorian himself wasn’t particularly confident, though he never told Lavellan that. She had enough on her mind. She came by to speak with him daily. Sometimes they spoke of magic and the Breach and Dorian’s own Tevinter Imperium, and other times they discussed inane things like their favorite way to eat hare, what their favorite drinking song was, or who was more attractive in the Inquisition. (Lavellan had money on Cullen being the most classically attractive, but Solas having the mystique. She managed to coax out from Dorian that he found the Iron Bull inexplicably attractive, though he was sure to add Cullen to his list, because even if it would never happen in a million years, the man was still pretty to look at.)

As they spoke of the Breach, they got together with Solas and Vivienne to determine the best way to approach trying to close the damn thing. They agreed on Solas being the voice telling the other mages what to do, with Vivienne getting everyone in the right position, and Dorian helping funnel support to Lavellan. They planned it out so much that by the time they trekked everyone up the mountain, it all seemed rather boring.

It hurt, channeling all that power towards Lavellan. Dorian wasn’t sure how she was handling it, considering he could only hear his blood pounding in his ears, but he hoped she was okay. She was the only person with any sort of power who seemed to care about him. And, frankly, she was persistent enough that he genuinely cared about her, too.

It seemed far too soon for the amount of power required that the rift before them, and the Breach itself, were sealed away. Or maybe it _had_ taken forever and Dorian lost track of time due to the sheer immense power he had to handle. Or maybe the rift itself messed with time. He wasn’t even sure anymore. But when the green light faded and the dust cleared, all he could see was Lavellan, face-down in the dirt.

No thought crossed Dorian’s mind at the sight; he just knew he had to get to her _right fucking now_. He wasn’t sure how he moved, considering his legs felt like jelly after all that power and he wasn’t really in true control of his faculties, but he was by her side before anyone else. He took a moment to take stock of Lavellan before rolling her over. He touched her wrist and found her pulse, fluttering and weak.

A cadre of swear words filled his mind. She accidentally tapped into her life force. She was going to die if he didn’t give her some more power. He was running on fumes, but he still had enough to keep her alive until someone could pass over a lyrium potion. Well, hopefully. His hands were shaking, almost violently, but he couldn’t help it. He settled her head and shoulders on his lap and held his hand over her chest. He shut his eyes and prayed to Andraste that she would be safe. _Please don’t let her die._

The cold touch of metal to his neck made him freeze. He didn’t stop channeling power to her (he wouldn’t dare), but he opened his eyes. One of his tormentors looked almost rabid with his sword to Dorian’s neck. His eyes were wide and his teeth were bared and a small line of spit ran down his chin.

“Hands off the Herald!” He hissed, nostrils flaring.

“I’m keeping her alive, you daft moron,” Dorian snarled right back. He was sick and tired of them in the first place, but they would have to drag his cold, dead corpse away from Lavellan before he stopped trying to take care of her.

“You’re _killing_ her!”

“Back _off!_”

The soldier raised his sword with a furious yell and somehow an axe inserted itself between Dorian and the strike. The metal clanged together loudly, making Dorian’s ears ring. Dorian looked up to the Iron Bull staring down the soldier with total and utter focus. Dorian had never seen the Iron Bull look so fixated on something. Usually, he had a big grin on his face while he cut his way through their enemies. Not this… _focus_. (It was somehow a little arousing, which made Dorian want to slap himself.)

Everything seemed to pause.

“Soldier!” Cullen’s voice rang out in sharp reprimand, shattering the moment. “Explain yourself!”

“The _‘Vint_ is trying to kill the Herald of Andraste!” The man backed away from the Iron Bull, eyes wide.

“The ‘Vint’, as you say, is saving her life,” Vivienne spoke up, calmly. Somehow, she managed to _not_ sound exhausted, though Dorian wasn’t sure how. If _he_ was practically passed out, she couldn’t be much better. He glanced back and saw the army of mages on the walls in various states of barely holding it together. Some had passed out, lying prone in the dirt, others were leaning on their staves to keep themselves upright, and some were sitting on the ground, trying to breathe through the exertion.

Vivienne sauntered up to him, lyrium potion in hand, like she was on an afternoon stroll through the gardens. It was actually irritating how perfect her poise was. Keeping her eyes firmly on the soldier, she bent down and offered the rim of the bottle to Dorian’s lips. He took a gulp of the noxious potion (seriously, how had _no one_ come up with a better tasting lyrium potion by now?!) and felt energy fill his chest. He was still weary and limp, but he had the power to keep Lavellan alive now. Which was really the only thing that mattered.

“That strike could have hit the Herald.” Cullen approached the soldier warily, knowing full-well the man was a smidge from cracking entirely. “Did you consider that, in attempting to kill Dorian, you could have _hurt her_?”

The look on the man’s face told Dorian he had _not_, in fact, considered that.

“I… I _never_… _He’s_ actually killing her!”

“Dorian would never hurt her, you moronic ingrate.” Vivienne sniffed haughtily.

“They travel the wilderness together and he heals her on a near daily basis when they’re out.” Leliana appeared out of fucking nowhere, her voice calm and firm. “If he had wanted to kill her, an accident in the wilderness is much easier to explain away.”

“Plus, he’s my friend.”

Everyone jumped at the sound of her voice. Lavellan sat up, gingerly, and glanced at Dorian.

“I overdid it, didn’t I?” She looked almost sheepish though the fatigue on her features.

“Just a bit.” Dorian sighed in relief, letting go of his magic in favor of trying to keep his head from splitting open. She was alive and conscious. Everything would be fine.

“Sorry.” She gave him a small grimace and then carefully got to her feet. Dorian watched with bated breath. There was _no way_ she should have had the energy to stand and walk on her own. Sheer stubbornness, he decided, was how she survived. Dumb luck and stubbornness. It was the only explanation that made any sort of sense. She looked at the soldier, eyes narrowed.

“Soldier, what is your name?” She asked, voice calm and strong.

“Whitley, my lady Herald.” The man swallowed tightly. “Conrad Whitley.”

“Conrad Whitley, you tried to kill my friend.”

His eyes, if possible, got even wider.

“Fortunately for you, the Inquisition needs every man it can get.” Dorian could tell that she was _pissed_. “However, you have proven to be untrustworthy with weapons. If you so easily attack another member of the Inquisition, how can I be certain you will follow orders when dealing with outsiders? You’ll be relegated to manual labor and you are banned from being anywhere near the armory. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my lady Herald.” Conrad Whitley dropped his sword into the dirt and fell to his knees.

“And if _anyone_,” Her voice carried through the makeshift amphitheater, “Tries to harm any member of the Inquisition ever again, this is your _one warning_: I will _not_ tolerate infighting, I will _not_ tolerate targeting of my friends, and I will _not_ be forgiving.”

She looked around to make sure everyone was paying attention.

“Dorian has saved my life many times over. He has proven himself a valuable member of the Inquisition. He has proven his loyalty above and beyond most of you. Every member of my inner circle has done the same. You target them, and you’re targeting the Herald of Andraste. We are working to _save the world_ and you want to have petty squabbling and infighting? How can we save everyone if we don’t work together? Orlais, Ferelden, the Free Marches, the Tevinter Imperium, Rivain, the Anderfels, Antiva, Maker, even Par Vollen. We’re saving _the world_. Not just the people we like the best. So, get on board with that or _get the fuck out of the Inquisition_.”

She nodded at Cullen, who had a couple other soldiers drag Conrad Whitley away from her.

“Now, we just closed the Breach! I say we party!”

A cheer rose up, loud from the soldiers, weary from the mages, but all in agreement. Dorian blinked up at Ellana, brain trying to figure out how the fuck she managed to berate everyone’s intolerance and also get them excited about throwing a party all in one lecture. She was magic. That had to be it. Maybe she _was_ the Herald of Andraste.

Soldiers helped carry and cart the unconscious and barely conscious mages back down the forsaken mountain and Vivienne and Leliana helped hold Ellana upright. Dorian wasn’t quite sure how to make his legs work, so continued to just sit on the frozen ground. (Why was everything in the south so fucking cold?!)

“Dorian.” Ellana’s voice made him focus. He looked up at her. She was blurry. He blinked a couple of times to make her come into focus. His head was in agony. “Is this the first time?”

What? Dorian was very confused.

“No,” the Iron Bull spoke for the first time.

Ellana gritted her teeth and bent down, only staying on her feet thanks to Leliana and Vivienne. She slapped Dorian across the face. The pain and shock of it snapped his brain into gear.

“Ow,” he muttered. Ellana straightened and wobbled. Cullen appeared at her back, taking over for Vivienne.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ellana demanded.

“Because I didn’t want them to escalate.” Dorian sighed. “I thought if I went running to you, they’d think I was weak, so target me again, or they’d be even madder for me getting them in trouble, so they’d get worse.”

“They got worse anyway.” The Iron Bull was _so_ not helping.

“You knew, too?” Ellana narrowed her gaze at the Qunari. He nodded and bent down, allowing her to slap him, as well. “Tell me _everything_,” she demanded, “and don’t lie to me.” Dorian briefly explained the situation from start to finish, with the Iron Bull helpfully including extraneous details like how many bruises he got and how many rocks were thrown.

“I wish you would have told us.” Cullen shook his head with a sigh.

“You didn’t have to tell _me_,” Ellana corrected, “but you _needed_ to tell Cullen.”

Dorian blinked at her. She was mad but also… sad. Upset. He had been hurt under her watch and she didn’t know. She didn’t protect him. Dorian felt like an idiot. He wanted her to slap him again.

“If there’s dissention in the ranks, it festers,” Cullen explained, “we can’t work together, _fight_ together, if there isn’t camaraderie. If some of the group want to hurt all outsiders and the rest don’t, they’ll never work together. Not in the way they should. Besides, I’m in charge of protecting the members of the Inquisition. _All_ the members of the Inquisition. That includes from other members of the Inquisition. I’m so sorry I failed you, Dorian. It won’t happen again.”

“It was my fault as well. I should have been keeping better tabs on our own people.” Leliana nodded in agreement.

Now, Dorian felt like trash. He’d upset his friend and he’d upset the Commander _and _he’d upset the Spymaster. He was such a wreck. He should leave while he still had the chance.

“If anyone even _looks_ at you funny again, tell us,” Ellana demanded, “or I’ll come and beat you up myself.”

“It won’t happen again,” Dorian agreed, softly.

“Damn right, it won’t,” the Iron Bull agreed. Ellana’s eyes flickered up to the Qunari. Some unspoken communication happened there that Dorian had to admit he was a little envious of. Then, she nodded and leaned back. Her head dipped for a moment and her blinking was taking longer and longer.

“Get her back to Haven,” Dorian told Cullen, “she needs rest.”

“Bossy,” Ellana complained softly, but her lips were quirked in a smile.

“I’ll not have you dying on me when I’ve worked so hard to keep you alive.” His haughty tone was pure bravado; Dorian was pretty sure he could barely _stand up_ at this point.

“Aye, aye, Cap’n Tightpants, sir.”

“That’s _Mr._ Captain Tightpants to _you_, young lady.” Dorian couldn’t help the tease. He was just so _relieved_ that she didn’t hate him and that the Breach was closed and everyone was walking away unharmed. Well, physically unharmed.

Cullen lifted Ellana into his arms with ease. Dorian spotted the flush on her cheeks, but he wasn’t sure the Commander noticed. He grinned at her over Cullen’s shoulder. She stuck her tongue out and relaxed in his grip. Leliana nodded at Dorian and the Iron Bull and disappeared from whence she came. Dorian didn’t know how she managed to do that and he cared for his life too much to ask.

“Come on, Dorian.” The Iron Bull bent down and hoisted Dorian in his arms. Dorian felt a little too close to Ellana at the moment. He glanced at the Commander’s retreating back and saw the brilliant smirk from his friend. He sighed.

“You don’t have to carry me,” Dorian informed the Iron Bull, though he figured (rightfully) that it was a fruitless protest.

“That was a fuck-ton of magic being thrown around. Not to mention you keeping the Boss alive,” the Iron Bull replied lightly.

“What’s your point?”

“Shut up and let me do this.”

Dorian decided to actually heed the Qunari and shut up.


	5. Loyalty

Of course, it felt like divine providence when, right in the middle of the festivities, and Ellana had finally woken up from her nap, and Dorian was being pestered mercilessly by Krem and Stitches (with Dalish laughing her ass off and Skinner egging everyone on), all insanity broke loose.

Dorian was one of the few chosen to go with Ellana to provide an avalanche that allowed the Inquisition forces to escape. (Lucky him.) So was Bull. There wasn’t much time for talking, but Dorian couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the excitement on Bull’s face when the massive, crystalline red templar came over the ridge.

“I call it!” He shouted. “My kill!”

“Go at it!” Ellana was busy with the trebuchet. Dorian was helping keep things off her and trying not to get stabbed in the process. Cassandra was probably the only one who didn’t seem particularly concerned about the scenario they were in when a rogue tried to stab her in the back. Somehow, she could deflect any attempt at damage without issues. Dorian had no idea how she did it (and he knew better than to ask).

Shit happened, as it was want to do, and then the Inquisition, led by a Somehow-_Not_-Frozen-in-The-Middle-of-an-Avalanche Lavellan and her Handy-Dandy-Knows-Too-Much Solas advisor, made its way to Skyhold. Skyhold was beautiful in the same way the Iron Bull was. (And Dorian needed to stop thinking of the Qunari as attractive because it was _never_ happening.) But, Skyhold was an absolute disaster. It was falling to pieces, it was dusty and filled to the brim with various animals, and it felt, oddly enough, like the closest thing to home Dorian had encountered in the south.

Dorian, along with several of the mages, decided the library (sparse as it was), was the best place for them to stay out of the way of the soldiers and also deep within their own comfort level. Dorian picked his spot because it overlooked the gate, the stables, and, if he craned his neck a bit, the sparring yard. Everyone in the inner circle found their own nook or cranny to make their own, though Dorian was particularly pleased with his little niche.

Ellana became the Inquisitor (took them long enough) and considered punching Cassandra out (not that it would have worked) for thrusting the responsibility on her. She valiantly pretended like everything was going according to plan, but it was painfully obvious to everyone watching that being the Inquisitor was _not_ on her list of things to accomplish in her life. Dorian figured that, if nothing else, _that_ was a prime reason to make her the Inquisitor. Lack of ambition kept people in power honest and merciful. The world needed a bit more of that, in Dorian’s not-so-humble opinion.

The Chargers all agreed with Dorian. The tavern was the first thing in the fortress to be renovated (for obvious reasons) and the Chargers used the building as their unofficial meeting place. Dorian had a spot reserved between Dalish and Grim every night. He wasn’t a Charger, but their persistence and loyalty in keeping him safe at Haven left an impact. Even Bull seemed to notice it, because he was starting to flirt with Dorian in the completely unsubtle and brash way that was entirely Qunari in nature.

It was aggravating because Dorian was certain that Bull was only doing it to tease him because he knew Dorian found him attractive. So, Dorian decided to ignore it. Which apparently was a sign for Bull to continue, because the man just _wouldn’t stop_. Dorian knew he was attracted to the Qunari, but he also had enough self-discipline (shut up, he totally did) to ignore it. Well, mostly. He didn’t _act_ on it, which in his mind was good enough. Luckily, the benefit of the Iron Bull blatantly flirting was that he was in close proximity to Dorian to do it. That meant that the people who were still a little pissy about Conrad Whitley (who had _yet_ to come off trench-digging duty), tended to avoid him. If Dorian wasn’t in his little niche in the library (that he stole a comfy chair for), he was with the Chargers in Herald’s Rest. If he wasn’t there, he was holed up in the room allocated to him, fit snugly between Krem’s and Varric’s rooms. If he was traveling between those places, Bull was flirting outrageously with him.

His one respite from the flirting was his regular chess matches with Cullen. They tried to get together at least once a week. Dorian won as often as Cullen did (though Cullen would never admit it in the light of day), but Dorian mostly enjoyed Cullen’s company. He knew the man was straight as an arrow and head over heels for Ellana, but Dorian was happy to consider Cullen a legitimate _friend_. Not as close as the Chargers or Ellana herself, but still…

It was strange. The more Dorian thought about it, the more he realized that he genuinely liked and cared for many of the members of the Inquisition. Even Sera, for all her insanity, was entertaining and brilliant in her own way. And, she was fiercely loyal. When she found out what had happened with Conrad Whitley, she pranked him and his friends mercilessly until Ellana had to tell her to stop. Dorian had rather enjoyed the pranking while it lasted, though.

It became rather apparent the longer they were at Skyhold that Ellana considered him her best friend. Or, at least, her bestest of friends. (Yes, those were her exact words.) Dorian wasn’t sure what to do with that sort of information. She trusted him implicitly, and Dorian found it hard not to trust her in return. Maker’s breath, he was pretty sure if he wasn’t gay or if Ellana had been male that he would’ve fallen in love with her. She was so generous and kind and _gentle_ for all her ferocity. He’d do anything for her.

Including, it seemed, going to the Storm Coast in order to secure an alliance with his country’s sworn enemies. Bull had worked hard on getting the Qunari to agree to even _attempting_ an alliance, so Ellana only brought the people she trusted most to help get things moving. Dorian steadfastly ignored the elf Bull was friendly with, not only because he was a bit jealous of how relaxed Bull seemed to be with the man, but also because he _really_ didn’t want to be noticed and tested _again_. Dorian did his damndest to fight and ensure the survival of the dreadnought (something he was _sure_ would exile him from Tevinter should it ever come to light) when things went sideways.

There was an argument, and Dorian kept himself far from it. It wasn’t his place. But he couldn’t help but overhear that even the Ben-Hassrath, the people Bull had been part of nearly his whole life, were doubting him. It was heartbreaking to even think that the closest thing Bull had to a family was turning its back on him. The horn blasted and Dorian jerked in shock. He stared at Bull’s back, knowing he looked a fool with his jaw hanging and his eyes wide. Bull gave up his original family to save his new one.

Honestly, it shouldn’t have been a shock. It was hard staying emotionally attached to people you rarely saw or spoke to. The Chargers had been with Bull for years and had been at his side no matter what the crazy jobs they got themselves into. But still, the idea of _the Iron Bull_ giving up the Qun was just so… Dorian couldn’t even contemplate it. The Qun was everything to Bull. It was his mission, his way of life. How was he going to survive this?

And yet, Dorian was glad, despite knowing what sort of pain Bull had to be going through. He hadn’t wanted to see his friends die. He might have done something drastic, though Ellana would have _killed_ him if he had.

Dorian kept a close eye on Bull when they got back to Skyhold. He didn’t want the man to do something stupid or extreme. He spoke with Ellana (not doing himself any favors in her matchmaking ideas) about Bull, almost on repeat. He was worried for his friend. It was hard losing everything you thought was important. Dorian would know. But Ellana kept him grounded, kept reminding him of the family he had _made_. The assassination attempt, the one Dorian witnessed from his perch in the library (and made his heart stop, even as he tried to figure out how fast he could get a fireball over to the battlements), only seemed to make Bull feel more secure in his decision. Even Ellana noticed, because she stopped being worried and concerned with Dorian and started trying to get him to flirt outrageously with the Qunari.

Bull, for his part, took everything in stride. Once he claimed the Chargers as his new Qun, he settled down and started flirting with Dorian in earnest. Which meant Dorian had his face permanently flushed whenever he spent _any_ sort of time with the Chargers. He considered not spending quite so much time with them, but the one night he tried to stay away from Herald’s Rest, Skinner and Grim found him in the library and dragged him to the tavern. Literally.

A month later, Dorian received a letter.

He found himself going to Redcliffe, her in tow, to figure out what his family wanted. Of course, since they were in the Hinterlands, she decided to bring along Bull and Varric, just in case. She _always_ brought Bull with her when she brought Dorian. It was her way of trying to get them together, though it drove Dorian mad. Not that Dorian had much place to talk; he was also pretty blatant in his attempts to get Ellana to sleep with Cullen _or_ Solas (just pick one, woman!).

She made Bull and Varric wait outside while she followed him into the tavern. It took him precisely three seconds to realize that the meeting was a trap and it was _actually_ his father standing before him. And, the longer he looked at the man who raised him, the more infuriated he felt. Heated words kept spewing from him, to the point where he turned some of them on his own beloved Ellana. (He felt guilty for that and probably would carry that guilt to his grave.)

“This display is uncalled for,” his father interrupted whatever was happening (Dorian was too pissed to really pay much attention, unfortunately). That meant Dorian’s ire was pointed back towards his father.

“No, it _is_ called for,” he snapped, “you called for it by luring me here.”

“This is not what I wanted.” Halward Pavus had always been a figure of strength and fortitude in Dorian’s life. Now, all he saw was a sad, lonely man.

“I’m never what you wanted, Father, or had you forgotten?” The words were ice on Dorian’s tongue. He almost, _almost_, felt bad for saying it, but then he remembered what his father had done. What the illustrious Halward Pavus had stooped to, all because his son was gay. Ellana piped up, trying to ease the tension and gather more information. Dorian didn’t know how to calm himself down. This was his first chance to actually _confront_ his father and _demand_ answers!

“_He_ taught me to hate blood magic. ‘The resort of the weak mind.’ Those are _his_ words.” Dorian turned back to Ellana, trying not to see the pure, unadulterated guilt on his father’s face. “But what was the first thing you did when your previous heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?” But he had to say it. He _had_ to let the man know what agony Dorian had been put through. He spun around, looking his father in the eye in the way he had never been able to when he was a child and Halward Pavus was up on a pedestal.

“You tried to _change_ me!” The heartbreak was evident in his voice. Dorian was barely holding it together anymore. His father, the great Halward Pavus, actually _flinched_ at his words. Good. Maybe he would finally understand how hard such a betrayal was.

“I only wanted what was best for you!” He defended himself, weakly.

“You wanted the best for _you_! For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!”

Dorian couldn’t keep looking at his father. He could hardly keep himself standing anymore. The rage had fled, leaving only the unmistakable and horrendous emptiness of betrayal in his chest. He used the nearby table to keep himself upright. He focused on the wood grain, trying to keep his furious tears at bay. Ellana touched his shoulder gently.

“Don’t leave it like this, Dorian,” she implored, softly, “You’ll never forgive yourself.”

And she was right, damn her. Dorian looked at her large, gentle eyes and almost broke right then and there. His best friend, the one who stood by his side throughout all their struggles, the one who had stood up to all the people of the Inquisition for him, the one who was desperately trying to set him up to make him happy… She was trying to ease his pain. Damn her good heart.

“Tell me why you came.” Dorian pushed off the table roughly, trying to keep his father from seeing his sadness, his weakness.

“If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition…”

“You didn’t,” he interrupted, “I joined the Inquisition because it’s the right thing to do.” Dorian turned away as he spoke. The conversation would go nowhere, he could tell. “Once I had a father who would have known that.”

He had to get out. He couldn’t look at the guilt and sadness on his father’s face. How fucking _dare_ he?! Dorian was the one who had been stabbed in the back and yet his _father _was the one looking pitiful?! Dorian almost made it to the door when his father’s soft voice made him hesitate.

“Once I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed.”

Dorian turned around in pure astonishment.

“I only wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice again. To ask him to forgive me.”

Halward Pavus didn’t admit mistakes. Halward Pavus didn’t _make_ mistakes. And yet, here he was, begging for forgiveness for the biggest mistake of his life. Incredulous, Dorian looked at Ellana, who gave him an encouraging smile and nodded at his father. Maybe, just _maybe_… Steeling himself for the hardest conversation of his life, and vowing to get Ellana the greatest gift of all time for helping him through this, Dorian walked back to his father. Maybe…

When Dorian stepped outside, he felt lighter somehow, and yet heavier at the same time. Talking with his father… it was almost like looking into a mirror and yet speaking with a total stranger. He never expected such a reaction. He never expected Halward Pavus to admit he was wrong.

“Dorian!” Ellana was beside him instantly. “How are you?”

“I’m… not sure.” Dorian shook his head. “I need to think on things. Perhaps we can talk later?”

Ellana nodded.

“When we get back, we can talk,” she agreed.

Bull waited all of five minutes before he decided to break the silence.

“That staff’s in pretty good shape, Dorian.”

Dorian felt his back stiffen, waiting for the punchline. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for Bull’s flirting. Especially when flirting with men was the primary reason for the rift between his father and him.

“Do you spend a lot of time polishing it?”

Honestly, the joke was sort of funny, thought Dorian would _never_ admit it (_especially_ to Bull). And, somehow, it lightened Dorian’s mood. He wasn’t sure what had happened or how Bull accomplished it, but he actually felt _better_, despite the horrible innuendo. Dorian groaned, loudly and overdramatically, knowing it was the reaction Bull expected. He glanced over his shoulder and Bull was watching him with that intent focus, his face entirely too solemn for the fact that he had just been joking around. Dorian shot him a small smile and Bull’s face lit up in a massive grin.

So he knew Dorian wasn’t in the best mood.

Dorian was briefly concerned that Bull had heard (through Dorian’s shouting), at least _part_ of the conversation with his father, but then he remembered how protective Bull was of him. Maker’s breath, he was practically one of the Chargers now. Bull wouldn’t do anything to abuse the knowledge he had gleaned. And, frankly, Dorian was getting tired to hiding from his shameful past. And, if the recent conversation with his father was anything to go by, Dorian figured that maybe, there was a small chance that he’d might be able to be part of the Pavus family again. He wasn’t sure how he’d manage to survive in Tevinter, what with all the new notions and ideas and morals floating around his head (_thanks_, Ellana!), but having his family back would be a rare gift.

Dorian still wasn’t prepared to forgive his father for the nigh unforgivable, but he was glad that they were talking again. He didn’t realize how much he missed his father until he didn’t have him anymore.

“Watch where you’re pointing that thing!” Bull had saved him from a raider who had somehow gotten _way too close_ to Dorian when he’d not been paying attention. His father had been on his mind and he’d lost track of the fight. No one said anything, but Dorian felt guilty for leaving them hanging like an idiot. So, he snapped at the first thing he could take offense to.

“Dirty.” Bull smirked.

“_Vishante kaffas!_” Dorian swore, more irritated at himself than Bull. “I meant your weapon!”

Bull’s smirk widened and Dorian rolled his eyes so hard he thought they’d roll right out of his skull. He had _not_ meant to suggest _anything_ to Bull, but apparently he was just failing all of the place today.

Ellana got sick and tired of Dorian’s shit, so started leading them back to camp. Not that it stopped Bull’s ridiculous flirtations. In the tent, the one Dorian hated more than anything else because of the forced proximity to Bull’s scent, Bull sobered up pretty spectacularly. Dorian was surprised the Qunari didn’t get whiplash from how fast he could change his moods.

“You doing all right, Dorian?” He asked, gently, “I know family stuff can be rough.”

“What would you know about it?” Dorian snapped, “True Qunari don’t have families.”

Instantly, he felt bad. Bull had never been anything but polite to Dorian (albeit with some insults and vague threats, but honestly that felt more like home than the plain niceness of Ellana) and Dorian was being rude. Especially with everything that had happened with the Qunari.

“Finding out you don’t fit in with the people who raised you?” Bull’s voice was still gentle. Dorian had no idea how he managed to keep himself calm in the wake of Dorian’s big, fat mouth. “Having to walk away from everything you grew up with, knowing you’ve disappointed the ones who loved you?” Dorian felt his face flush in shame. “I might know a bit.” Dorian would _never_ be able to look Bull in the eye again. He was such a moron. “Takes a tough man to do it, too. So good on you, you big old fop.”

“Yay,” Dorian replied, blandly. He hated himself profoundly in that moment. “Good on me.”

Bull watched him carefully for several long moments. Dorian wanted to cry. He felt like such a fool. And he was letting his own emotional bullshit harm his friendships. He should slap himself for being so stupid. He sighed deeply and shut his eyes, trying to block out everything.

“Sorry,” he murmured, “that was insensitive.”

“Yeah, everyone’s got to snap once in a while.” Bull was still calm and relaxed. “Just as long as you do it verbally and don’t start getting all ‘Vint-y on everyone, we’re all good.”

“Getting all ‘Vint-y?” Dorian couldn’t help the small smile. It was such a Bull thing to say.

“You know, blood magic, cursing everyone, trying to take over the world…”

“I know Corypheus was one of mine, but I’m pretty certain _my_ family, at least, isn’t related.”

“How can you tell?”

Dorian opened his eyes to see Bull’s smirk.

“Have you _seen_ what he wears? I’m not sure it’s _possible_ for him to have wooed a woman enough to have children for him.”

Bull chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Dorian.” Every time Bull said his name, Dorian felt shivers crawl up his spine. It shouldn’t have been arousing. It _really_ shouldn’t have been. It was just his _name_, Maker’s breath, and yet Bull’s timbre made Dorian want to do unspeakable things to the Qunari.


	6. Games

Dorian steadfastly ignored his own wants with all the stubbornness he was learning from Ellana. He threw himself headlong into his research on the Anchor, the Breach, Corypheus… He still spared time to spend with the Chargers and his chess matches with Cullen, but he would _not_ destroy the friendship he had forged with Bull just because he found the man hot. Ellana still dragged the two of them along, to the Hissing Wastes, which frankly were _obnoxiously_ boring, and the Exalted Plains, which involved a lot of undead unfortunately, and the Emerald Graves, which had a dragon. Bull eyed the thing with a bright grin, though Ellana kept them firmly away from the dragon’s stomping grounds. (“But, _Boss_!”; “We’ll have fun when we’re done working!”)

And yet, Dorian couldn’t keep his eyes off the Qunari. It was like suddenly the forbidden was less forbidden and easier to accept. A Qunari and a Tevinter Altus was impossible. A Tal-Vasoth was a different story entirely. Not that Dorian minded what was acceptable (he had been gay in Tevinter, after all), but somehow he was finding it harder to remind himself to stay away, to not look.

“Quite the stink-eye you’ve got going, Dorian,” Bull interrupted one of Dorian’s brief fantasies of having those biceps hold him down. He felt his ears burn in embarrassment at being caught. He had to save face, especially in front of Ellana and Solas.

“You stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest,” he complained, valiantly attempting to salvage his honor.

“That’s right. These big muscled hands could tear those robes off while you struggled, helpless in my grip.” Bull’s voice turned dark and sensual and it was all Dorian could do _not_ to moan. “I’d pin you down, and as you gripped my horns; I. _Would_. Conquer. You.”

Dorian had never been more thankful for his choice in attire than that moment. Hiding an erection wasn’t one of the reasons he chose his particular clothes, but Maker’s breath, was it helping him now. It was like Bull _knew_ what he’d been fantasizing about. Dorian could _feel_ Ellana’s and Solas’ eyes on him, and couldn’t help the blush.

“Uh. What?” His mouth was dry and his voice was higher pitched than it should have been.

“Oh. Is that not where we’re going?” Bull’s voice returned to its normal, gentle teasing and Dorian almost whimpered at the sudden lack of sensuality. Fuck, he was hard and fuck _yes_, he wanted what Bull was offering. But he couldn’t. Not in front of Ellana and Solas. And _especially_ not because he didn’t want to fuck up what he had with the Chargers.

“No. It was very much not,” Dorian insisted. He caught the smug smirk on Bull’s face and ignored it. He caught the grin and thumbs up from Ellana and ignored that to. He blatantly didn’t look at Solas, trying _not_ to learn what the elf thought of the flirtations between him and Bull.

Back in Skyhold, Dorian knew instantly that one of his three companions had been talking, because suddenly people everywhere were whispering about him. And it had nothing to do with him being a Tevinter mage anymore. Maker’s breath, if it _had_ been something so mundane, Dorian probably would have enjoyed it. But no, people were whispering about him and _Bull_. Specifically, him and Bull _fucking_. Which was certainly _not_ happening. And, frankly, Dorian felt like if the rumor was happening, he should _actually_ be reaping the benefits of said rumor.

But every night with the Chargers convinced him to stay away. Krem was the first person to befriend him. If things with Bull went to shit (which was probably going to happen), then Krem would be put in the unenviable position of being between his boss and his friend. Dorian couldn’t do that to him. Dorian couldn’t do that to _any_ of the Chargers.

Their next chess match, Cullen was far too polite to say anything. Dorian could tell that the man knew the rumor, though. Cullen was many things, brilliant, attractive, strong, but he didn’t have any form of a poker face. He couldn’t keep knowledge from his face if he tried. Just like when Dorian made an apparently critical error in his strategy and Cullen smirked. Dorian wasn’t really paying attention to the game, because he spotted Ellana eavesdropping on their conversation. He was going to get her back (because he was pretty fucking certain it was _her_ who spread the rumor).

“Gloat all you like. I have this one,” Cullen promised.

“Are you _sassing_ me, Commander?” Dorian teased, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Why do I even…” Cullen’s whole body jerked as he spotted Ellana. “Inquisitor.” He started to get to his feet in that adorably chivalrous way. Dorian smirked and took advantage of it.

“Leaving, are you? Does this mean I win?”

Cullen glowered at him and settled back in his seat.

“Are you two playing nice?” Ellana grinned.

“I’m _always_ nice.” Dorian was a bit smug, but he had a plan. And it involved forcing Cullen to spend time with Ellana in an informal context. “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You’ll feel much better.” He knew within a couple of seconds, he was going to lose horribly, but that was part of the plan. Plus, if he did it right, either Cullen or Ellana might _actually_ make a move!

“Really?” Cullen was smug and smirking and it was a good look on him. If Dorian weren’t so hung up on Bull and Cullen weren’t straight, he might even be interested. He could still look. And he was _certain _Ellana was looking in that moment. “Because I just won. And I feel fine.”

“Don’t get smug.” Dorian pretended to huff. “There will be no living with you.” He got up from his chair and started to leave, listening avidly.

“I should return to my duties as well…” Cullen trailed off at the dark look Dorian sent him over Ellana’s shoulder. Dorian pointed at the board and then at Ellana, glowering mightily at the Commander. “Unless you would care for a game?” He finished lamely. Ellana glanced over her shoulder at Dorian, who had already started walking away again.

“Prepare the board, Commander.”

Dorian grinned to himself as he meandered through the gardens to a nice spot where he could spy on the love birds. They were both decidedly and disgustingly polite. Not _once_ did either one of them manage to even _touch_ the other in their entire game. Dorian was appalled. At the very least, though, he caught a few small smiles from Cullen directed straight at Ellana while Ellana beamed brilliantly back. They were so cute it actually was a bit sickening. He went and hid in the library, waiting for Ellana to come chew him out. There was _no way_ she missed the fact that he had been manipulating the situation.

“Dorian!”

Sure enough.

“You are absolutely my _favorite_ person!” Ellana threw herself at him, grinning like an idiot. Dorian laughed at her exuberance and hugged her tightly.

“When’s the wedding?” He teased.

“Shut it.” She nudged his ribs with her elbow. “He said he wants to spend time with me!”

“He’s enamored with you.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “He’s been wanting to ‘spend time’ with you for months!”

“Dorian!” She nudged him again, harder this time. “I meant literally. Like playing chess and talking and stuff.”

“Oh.” Dorian mock-frowned. “Well, that is decidedly _less _fun.”

Dorian allowed the elf to settle into his comfy chair and swoon over Cullen and his hair and his _smile_ for the rest of the afternoon. Dorian prompted her when she fell into silence, blatantly appreciating the commander’s beauty. Ellana laughed through the afternoon and Dorian just _had_ to forgive her for interfering in his romantic life (or lack thereof).

Bull, for his part, didn’t acknowledge the rumors at all. Not that it helped much, considering the Chargers took full advantage of teasing them both. And the rumors didn’t stop him from flirting outrageously with Dorian every chance he got (“You ever want to explore that, my door’s always open” and “Stoke those fires, big guy” and “You’re sexy when you’re threatening me with bodily harm, you know that” and, Dorian’s personal favorite because apparently he was _ranking_ these things now, “Fuck, your ass is _fantastic_!”)

Dorian was starting to fully believe that the Chargers had placed _wagers_ on if and when he and Bull had sex. He wasn’t sure who had wagered what, but there was about a fortnight in the midst of everything when each Charger tried to talk Bull up to Dorian. When a full week passed after their meddling, they all seemed a bit depressed. Dorian assumed the wager picked up again, because they all abruptly got very excited about talking about Bull to Dorian again. As such, Dorian spent more and more time hiding from them in the library. Consequently, Ellana also spent an inordinate amount of time in the library.

Frankly, it was a little absurd how well Dorian and Ellana got along and if Cullen or Bull were any less self-assured, they’d be depressed by how much time Dorian and Ellana spent together. There was actually a week-long stretch where Dorian and Ellana spent a grand total of two hours and five minutes away from each other (all of the privy moments). And, throughout that whole week, they didn’t get tired of each other once.

They were having a healthy debate about the pros and cons of Orlesian pastries versus the sweets the Free Marches had come up with when Varric came around the corner into Dorian’s little nook. (For an author, he sure didn’t spend much time with actual _books._)

“There you are!” He grinned as he spotted Ellana. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You’re just in time. We almost had to start without you.”

“What exactly were you starting without me, now?” Ellana blinked from her position upside down on the chair. Dorian didn’t know how she did it, but she always got into the weirdest positions when left in a chair long enough. (Josephine learned _never_ to let Ellana sit in judgment for too long.)

Varric merely beckoned, looking at both Ellana and Dorian, so Dorian followed dutifully to Herald’s Rest. He was surprised to see Ellana’s entire inner circle (well, not Vivienne or Leliana) settled around one big table, a deck of cards splayed out in front of Josephine and a tankard in front of every chair.

“I found ‘em, Ruffles!” Varric announced. “Deal ‘em in!”

“I do hope I recall the rules,” Josephine chuckled, “it’s been ages since I’ve played a game of Wicked Grace.” Dorian grinned and settled in one of the remaining chairs. Luckily, he was as far from Bull as he could possibly be. With alcohol _and_ Wicked Grace involved, Dorian was _certain_ he would do something stupid if left to his own devices around the Qunari.

“Grab a seat. We’re ready to start,” Varric decided, settling down next to Dorian.

“Are we playing cards or what?” Bull demanded, impatiently. Obediently, Josephine shuffled and started dealing cards.

“Are three drakes better than a pair of swords?” Cassandra asked the table at large. “I can never remember.”

“Seeker, remember how I said, ‘don’t show anyone your hand’? That rule includes announcing it to the table.” Varric was holding back laughter as he spoke.

“There’s a crown on his head, but a sword, too. His head didn’t want either,” Cole muttered, loudly enough for everyone to hear. Dorian felt profound fondness for Cole. All he wanted was to help people. It was refreshing to have such honesty around. And it kept him honest, because Cole would just blurt out whatever anybody was thinking anyway. In retrospect, playing a card game with Cole seemed like an unfair advantage for him.

“Don’t talk to the face cards, kid.” Varric smiled, obviously as fond of the kid as Dorian was.

“You seem to have enough people,” Cullen announced, a bit bitterly, “I have a thousand things to do.”

Well. Dorian couldn’t let the good commander _leave_. Not when he and Ellana had finally done more than just pine in each other’s directions.

“Losing money can be both relaxing and habit forming,” he piped up, “give it a try.”

“Curly, if any man in history ever need a hobby, it’s you.” Varric shot Dorian a wink, knowing full-well what he was attempting to do. Josephine interrupted whatever excuse Cullen was going to come up with, a faint smile on her features. Dorian bit back a grin. It seemed he had co-conspirators in his endeavors. Lovely.

“Dealer starts.” She looked at her hand carefully. “Ooh… I… Believe… I’ll start at… three coppers!” Dorian almost dropped his head onto the table. _Seriously?!_ “Do you think that’s too daring?” He looked around at the rest of the table, helplessly. It was hopeless. He was playing with ingrates. “Maybe I’ll make it one… No! Boldness! Three it is!” Maker’s breath, Dorian was going to _let_ Cullen walk away from this madness.

“Seriously?” Bull sounded as irritated as Dorian felt. “Who starts at three coppers? Silver, or go home.” Dorian almost laughed. He caught the tiny smirk on Bull’s face as the Qunari glanced at him. Oh, that shit. He was flirting from across the damn table. In front of everyone!

“Sounds good,” Blackwall continued like Bull said nothing, “I’m in.”

“Bolder the better, right?” Dorian shot a smile to Josephine, letting her know he was glad she was trying to help get Cullen and Ellana together. He tried not to show his irritation, though. “I’m in.”

“Me, too.” Varric nodded at Ellana. “Well? Are you in?”

“Just remember I’m still new to this game,” Ellana pointed out. Dorian spent the better part of two months teaching her how to play Wicked Grace and she had far surpassed his own abilities in that short of time. She found it funny to play up her Dalish heritage and pretend like she was all innocent and unknowing and naïve. Truth be told, _Dorian_ found it funny, too, but he knew better than to underestimate her.

“Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up in no time,” Varric promised.

“So shiny…” Dorian couldn’t tell if that was a stray thought from somebody or if Cole was genuinely interested in the sovereign in his hand.

It only took two rounds of ale and one game of Wicked Grace to get Cullen talking. By that time, Dorian recognized the group effort everyone was making to get him to loosen up enough to _flirt with Ellana, you stupid twat!_ It was getting unbearable. Dorian was starting to think the man was hopeless.

“The poor recruit ran out into the dining hall in nothing but his knickers.” Cullen was struggling to hold in his laughter. To be fair, the story was quite humorous, and Ellana seemed taken by it. Which was why no one had bothered trying to redirect the commander. “And this… profound silence fell over the hall as seventy mages and thirty templars all turned to stare at once. Then a slow round of applause began.” Dorian had to give credit where it was due: Cullen could tell a story. “And spread until every soul was on their feet. A standing ovation.”

“What did he do?” Josephine was a little tipsy at this point and barely holding her giggles to herself.

“Saluted. Turned on his heel. And marched out like he was in full armor.” Cullen grinned widely as he got the whole table sniggering. Several of them (Dorian included), piped up through the laughter, adding to the hilarity.

“That’s how you know it’s true,” Varric decided, interrupting the childish giggling, “I could never put that in a book. Too unlikely.”

“I’ve got one for you,” Ellana suggested with a grin, “the clan decided to camp near this ruined fortress. Right on the edge of the Tirashan. Dark as the bottom of a well. The Keeper swore up and down it was safe, but some of the hunters started hearing noises in the middle of the night.”

It took another game and two more rounds for Ellana to finish her story. To be fair, she kept getting interrupted by giggles and comments from the peanut gallery. Dorian, for his part, was starting to feel pleasantly tipsy and not quite so irritated by the fact that Josephine was doing _stupidly_ well for someone who decided to start with _three coppers_.

“They ran out of there, fast as you think, bare arses shining in the moonlight. The whole way back to their village.”

“Not bad!” Varric laughed. “You don’t mind if I steal that one, do you?”

“You ought to tell stories more often,” Blackwall decided. For a man of his stature, he was a surprising lightweight, Dorian thought.

“I like the part with the rabbit. There should be more rabbits in stories,” Cole decided.

“That was _scandalous_,” Josephine informed the group at large, “it would ruin the Inquisition if anyone found out. Tell it again!” She nudged Ellana with a bright smile.

“I think it’s our professional storyteller’s turn to tell one.” Ellana nodded at Varric, barely even glancing at her cards.

“I think I can manage that.” Varric grinned. And then he took his sweet time telling another tale. He managed to keep it down to only one game and one round, but it was a near thing. “And then Hawke looks up and says, ‘Looks like the Duke… had fallen from grace’.” Cullen was probably on the wrong side of drunk, because he could barely keep his laughter down. The next round of drinks was bought by Cullen, who flushed pink at Ellana’s appreciative smile.

Two games and three rounds later, and Josephine had won. _Again._ Dorian briefly wondered if she was cheating.

“Deal again,” Cullen demanded, leaning on the table. The man was competitive to a fault. A far cry from the man who insisted he was too busy to play the game in the first place. “I’ve figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador.” Dorian shot a surprised look at Varric, who shrugged in response. Apparently, things were going to get more interesting.

“Commander!” Josephine leaned on the table, too. “Everyone knows a lady has no tells.”

“Then let’s see if your good fortune lasts one more hand,” Cullen dared.

“I’m not losing any more coin to Josephine,” Ellana chuckled, “but I have got to see this.”

It took two games for Josephine to take everything Cullen had. Including his clothes. Cullen sat, sullenly stewing in his frustration at not beating Josephine even once.

“Don’t say a word, dwarf,” Cullen muttered.

“I tried to warn you, Curly,” Varric laughed.

“Never bet against an Antivan, Commander,” Josephine pointed out, wryly.

“I’m leaving.” Cassandra got to her feet. “I don’t want to witness our commander’s walk of shame back to the barracks.”

“Well, I do!” Dorian piped up with a grin. Ellana bit back a smile and Bull coughed into his drink. Bull focused on Dorian while everyone ribbed Cullen lightly, a small smirk on his lips. Dorian didn’t know why, but that look was intoxicating. Even more so than the too many drinks Dorian had imbibed. It was almost too much. Dorian took a deep breath and joined the rest of the inner circle in granting Cullen a modicum of privacy to flee to the barracks. He got to his feet and started the long walk back to his room.


	7. A Praiseworthy Endeavor

Bull was walking sex, and Dorian well-knew it. It drove him absolutely insane. It had been almost seven months that they had been in the Inquisition together. And Bull had been tormenting Dorian’s libido nearly the whole time. It wasn’t fair for the man to be _that_ attractive and hilarious and _brilliant_. Bull liked to pretend he was all brawn and no brain, but Dorian had seen otherwise. He was sharp, focused, and observant. He could tell if any of his Chargers had sneezed in the last week at a glance. And somehow, the intelligence and wit was what really sealed the deal for Dorian.

Not that he was going to do anything about it. Maker no.

“Fun night.” Bull’s voice made Dorian leap out of his skin.

“_Fasta vass!_ Could you make _some_ noise? Wear a bell, perhaps?”

“And miss out on watching that ass jump?” Bull grinned.

“No one would miss you, I promise,” Dorian muttered, feeling a bit self-conscious about his ass. He never considered it as a strong feature before Bull. Most people were attracted to his title or his magic or how well-groomed he was (and occasionally how fashionable he was). Bull might well have been the first person to find his _ass_ something to admire. Still, he should probably abuse that knowledge. If _Bull_ liked his ass, then he should adjust his clothing to accentuate that feature. It would probably come in handy.

Bull chuckled darkly in response. Dorian hated that chuckle. Specifically, he hated his body’s needy reaction to that chuckle.

“What are you doing?” Dorian asked, crossing his arms. He wasn’t _trying_ to seem like a petulant child, but he was _not_ in the mood for Bull’s brand of flirting at the moment. It was too much bark and too little bite. Bull was in Dorian’s direct line of sight the entire night and every drink made it harder for him to _not_ just jump across the table and throw himself at the Qunari.

“Watching that ass jump.” Bull was smug. Dorian hated it.

“Well. Stop.” Dorian’s head was pleasantly swimming from the alcohol, so his wit had abandoned him. That was his excuse.

“Do you want me to?”

The solemnity in his tone made Dorian blink for a few seconds. His brain struggled to follow the line of thought. When he finally mentally caught up, he felt a flush burn his cheeks.

“I… no,” he muttered.

“Good.” Bull smiled. “I’d hate for all this flirting to go to waste.”

Dorian didn’t know what to say. Part of him thought the flirting was a joke, a lark that the Qunari was doing for fun. Part of him preened at the attention, enjoying the flirting for the harmless fun it was. He steadfastly ignored the tiny part in the back of his mind that wanted it to be real. It wasn’t even just bland curiosity anymore. He genuinely _liked_ Bull, which was part of the reason he tried adamantly to keep his hands to himself. He had too much experience with screwing up relationships when he actually liked the other person. Not that Ellana or the Chargers or even Cullen _let_ him get away with his own personal brand of demolishing friendships, but Dorian knew how needy he was. It wasn’t fair to put someone else on the receiving end of that. He could handle himself, no problem. He’d _been_ handling himself for a long time, thank you very much.

“Not wasted,” Dorian muttered, hating the slight slur of his tongue. He hadn’t meant to drink so damn much. His head was pleasantly swimmy and his focus was shot. He kept getting distracted by the scars that crisscrossed along Bull’s biceps.

“You’re actually pretty cute when you’re drunk,” Bull chuckled.

“Not.” Dorian shook his head, trying to clear the fog in his brain. “Just… tipsy.”

“Sure.” Bull’s hand helped Dorian from tipping over. Which wasn’t particularly helpful, because it gave Dorian too much proximity to those biceps. He breathed through his mouth, trying _not_ to smell the delicious Qunari before him. It didn’t work. (Not that Dorian was complaining.) “You gotta stop doing that, ‘Vint, or I won’t be able to help myself.”

“Do what?” Dorian asked.

“Smelling me and swooning.” Bull’s voice was rough. Dorian blinked his eyes open, having not even realized he had shut them.

“Pardon me, I do not _swoon_.” He sniffed, haughtily. Which was really a problem, because that just got Bull’s scent in his nose.

“Then explain that whole ‘taking a deep breath and then falling against me’ thing you just did.”

Dorian didn’t even realize his side was pressed against Bull. It was like he was just _supposed_ to be there. He fought the instinct that told him just to snuggle in and accept his fate. He pulled himself upright and deliberately stepped away from the Qunari. He was a bit too drunk to decipher the look on Bull’s face.

“You pulled me against you, like a brute.” Dorian tried to excuse his wanton behavior. Bull looked more amused than anything else. He leaned closer to Dorian with a smug smirk.

“Isn’t that what you want? Just to feel my heat, surrounding you and trapping you and making you scream?”

There was no witness this time. No one to play off the innuendo for. Dorian felt lost. _Yes_, it was what he wanted. More than anything else at the moment. It was all he had been able to think about every time he so much as _glanced_ at the Qunari. But he couldn’t admit it. He was glad for the drinking he had been doing, because it marvelously hid his burning blush.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” His voice, however, came out high and squeaky and more juvenile than he wanted.

“Don’t you, Dorian?”

Dorian shivered. It wasn’t the first time Bull had used that low, rough timbre to his advantage (usually to bother Dorian, which worked every time), but it was the first time he had that indomitable _focus_. His eye was utterly fixated on Dorian’s face and reactions, ensuring that, above everything else, Dorian _wanted_ what was going on. Fuck, did Dorian want it.

“I expect I shall regret this when I’m sober,” Dorian decided, “but I am, apparently, out of fucks to give.” With that, he pressed up on his toes, grabbed Bull’s armor-strap-thing (he had never quite figured out what its purpose _actually_ was considering it did little, if anything, to protect Bull in battle), and yanked the Qunari down into a bruising kiss. For a couple brief seconds, Dorian’s alcohol-addled mind forgot that to _enjoy_ a kiss, he actually had to _do_ something instead of just shoving two sets of lips together. Bull, for his part, didn’t seem to be similarly impaired. He tilted his head to slant their lips together in a better angle. His tongue swept forward, tasting Dorian’s lower lip, making him weak in the knees. Or maybe that was the alcohol…

Bull pulled back slightly, enough to make Dorian lean into his chest to try to maintain contact. His eye searched Dorian’s face for something. Dorian couldn’t quite focus enough to figure it out. His head was still spinning from that kiss.

“You sure about this, ‘Vint?”

“I’ve been admiring you for ages and _now_ you want to know if I’m sure?” Dorian asked, affronted. Bull grinned.

“Just makin’ sure.”

“I’m not a child.” Dorian was probably pouting, though he wouldn’t admit it.

“Alcohol makes people do weird shit.”

“Does that mean ‘no’?” Okay, Dorian was _definitely_ pouting. Bull ran his thumb over Dorian’s lower lip, telling him the pout didn’t go unnoticed. And the damnable Qunari was smirking.

“Oh, you’re definitely riding the Bull tonight.”

Dorian couldn’t tell if the heat in his cheeks was from the alcohol or the blush. Bull dragged him into another breathtaking kiss and he melted. Which he’d never admit on pain of death. Blankly, he followed Bull up _way_ too many stairs and behind a door. It took him a second to realize he was not only in Bull’s room, which was never something he had ever experienced before, but there was also no roof.

“You don’t have a roof…” Dorian didn’t miss the pie lurking under the bed (thanks to the array of lamps, imparting a soft glow around the room), nor the axe seated neatly into the bedframe, but somehow the roof was a sticking point for him.

“Nah. There’s enough for the Inquisition to fix that’s more important.” Bull shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s _freezing_!” Dorian complained, looking at the damage to see how much actual repairing was necessary. Not that he could tell. He could tell you everything you ever wanted to know about Tevinter and magic, but practical things like building a tower reminded him to be humble. Well, sometimes.

“I can fix that.”

Bull somehow got _behind_ Dorian, and the dark promise in his voice made all the hairs on the back of Dorian’s neck stand on end in the best possible way. He shivered against the sound.

“How, pray tell, can you fix me being cold if it starts _snowing_ on your bed?”

“I’ll just have to be on top so it snows on my back instead.”

Dorian nearly moaned. This flirting was getting torturous.

“What if I’d rather be on top?” He dared, somehow managing to get the words out without stuttering or squeaking.

“We _could_ try that,” Bull allowed, his chest nearly pressed to Dorian’s back. His warmth was a sharp contrast to the chill in the night air. “But that’s not what you want.”

“And what do I want?” Dorian’s voice softened to a near whisper. He was losing ground on his ability to cognitively do _anything_ fairly quickly.

“You want to be taken.” Bull’s voice was liquid sex, wrapping around every pore of Dorian’s body. “You want to find out if every sordid Tevinter rumor you’ve ever heard is true. You want to be owned. You want _me_ to do it. You want to be filled to the brim of hot, heretical Qunari cock.”

Dorian’s throat closed up, rendering him mute. The fire raged in his blood. He didn’t think he had ever been more aroused in his life.

“Is that what you want, Dorian?” Bull’s lips touched the shell of Dorian’s ear. Dorian whimpered at both the question and the touch. He felt Bull’s lips quirk into a smile, but couldn’t find any spot of pride to care.

“Yes.” He managed to find a murmur of a voice.

“Good. Now, strip,” Bull ordered. Dorian’s spine jerked in a brief reaction to the authority, but his fingers obediently found the straps and buckles. His mind was filled with the sensation of Bull’s heat, the heady and spicy aroma of Bull’s scent, the burning desire thudding loudly in his own veins… He was intoxicated on his arousal. His fingers fumbled on the buckles, but eventually won the battle, stripping layer after layer from his body. The cold night air made goosebumps flare out over his skin and his nipples harden. When he finally stood naked (with Bull still lurking at his back), he was amazed that the chill did _nothing_ to dampen his erection.

“_Fuck_.” Bull murmured, his breath hot against Dorian’s neck. “You’re beautiful.”

The compliment made Dorian preen, just a bit. He liked being admired, but he felt _so good_ when Bull praised him. Dorian felt his body tremble in anticipation. He had never had such subtle foreplay. Mostly, it was kissing and touching until everyone was hard and enjoying themselves before getting to the main bit. Never before had he been _talked_ to readiness.

“Get on the bed.”

Dorian climbed into the middle of the bed without a word, flopping onto his back unceremoniously.

“Good boy.”

Dorian almost moaned at the approval. Somehow, the praise was neither patronizing nor infantilizing. It simply _was._ And Dorian wanted more. He finally (_finally!_) got to see the Iron Bull. The Qunari had apparently been disrobing at the same time, though Dorian couldn’t recall how or when, because Bull was completely nude. Dorian was only human, so his gaze promptly fell to the massive tool between the thick, tree-trunk thighs. It wasn’t the biggest thing Dorian had ever tested his limits on, but it was up there. He felt his mouth go dry as a desperate, needy sound filled his throat.

“Shh, we’ll get there.” Bull finally allowed himself to touch Dorian. His hand started up at Dorian’s shoulder and firmly followed Dorian’s chest down to his thigh. Dorian felt his muscles tense as he held his body in check. He tried not to lunge off the bed. He was aroused, not desperate. Not yet.

“I do wish you’d hurry up.” Dorian’s irritation with how slow Bull was moving helped him find his voice.

“Yes, that mouth.” Bull leaned over and kissed Dorian, tongue and lips silencing whatever protest Dorian had. “Wouldn’t do to have you be silent. Though, might have to gag you once, just to see how pretty you’d beg with your body.”

Dorian’s body vibrated with excitement at the idea and he felt his dick twitch in response. Bull noticed, because he was grinning.

“You promised me dinner before that,” Dorian pointed out, primly.

“And I _will_ buy you dinner before I tie you up, gag you, and fuck you until you’re nothing more than a barely conscious, drooling mess of a ‘Vint.”

Dorian almost forgot his wit for a moment.

“Well, that’s _one_ way to take your enemy out.”

“I doubt it’ll be as much fun on any ‘Vint but you.”

Dorian _would have_ responded, but Bull’s hand gripped his erection. He had never had issues being vocal in bed before. His focus was entirely on the hot hand on his cock.

“Yeah, figured this would be the way to get you to shut up.” Bull sounded amused, which frankly, was _not_ what he should have been sounding like, all things considered. Dorian’s pride prickled, but Bull ran his thumb over the slit and Dorian briefly forgot why he was irritated.

“If you moved any slower, Ellana would have killed Corypheus already,” he grumbled.

“Do me a favor and _don’t_ mention any other ‘Vint in bed,” Bull chuckled.

“I wouldn’t _have_ to if you _did_ something!”

Dorian wasn’t expecting the Qunari to settle between his thighs and start sucking his cock. A couple of coarse swears erupted from his chest and _when_ exactly had Bull captured his hands, preventing him from grabbing _anything_ and keeping his hips perfectly still even as the wet heat of Bull’s mouth made him lose any sense of sanity he had left? He didn’t know where Bull had learned _whatever the fuck_ he was doing, but Dorian would _never_ badmouth Bull’s oral skills _ever_ on pain of death. He wasn’t even focused on anything else, just the feel and sensation of being completely immobile and pleasured. He didn’t realize he had even been speaking until a deep groan emerged from Bull’s chest.

“I knew you’d be hot in bed, but I didn’t account for you blaspheming all over the place.” Bull pulled his lips off Dorian’s cock.

“I beg your pardon?”

Why that was the first thing out of Dorian’s mouth, he didn’t know. It seemed a bit odd to be so formal when being sexually dominated by a Qunari.

“Speaking of Andraste and the Maker in that manner…” Bull tutted in mock-reproach. “I don’t think the Chantry would look highly on that type of speech.”

“Do me a favor and _don’t_ talk about the Chantry in bed.”

“Touché.”

Bull seemed to get over his amusement quickly, because he returned his focus to Dorian’s body. His large hands gripped Dorian’s thighs and brought them over his horns. Dorian flushed. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he had _no_ leverage whatsoever and his most tender bits were on full display for Bull’s prowling gaze. He’d had many a wild night, but they’d all been quick tumbles with the urgency to get off as quickly as possible preventing any sort of deep exploration that Bull seemed intent on. Dorian wasn’t sure if he was keen on this kind of sexual adventure.

“_Fasta vass!_” His back arched as a hot tongue firmly stroked over his hole. Bull’s hands ran over his thighs and lower stomach, gently easing the muscles there. Dorian’s fingers fisted the sheets desperately.

“Easy there, Dorian.” Bull’s voice was rough. Dorian couldn’t help the twitch at the sound of his name from the Qunari’s lips. “You act like you never been rimmed before.”

“I _haven’t_!” Dorian’s voice came out a petulant squeak.

“Seriously?” Bull looked over Dorian’s cock to eye his face. “Well, looks like I’m about to blow your mind.”

“I’d _prefer_ if you’d blow my – _vishante kaffas!_”

Bull ignored any and all words being issued from Dorian’s mouth in favor of thoroughly exploring Dorian. His tongue was larger than any lover Dorian had ever had, so when it probed inside him, it was actually thicker than some of the fingers he’d had in his ass. Pleasure erupted up his spine. He was pretty sure he was still swearing (and Tevene had _lots _of curses), but couldn’t really focus on anything other than the tongue thrusting into him. He was shaking, nigh violently, and moaning at the sensations. Dorian was certain he was _ruined_ for literally anyone else.

“Shh…” Bull stopped his torture when Dorian lost his words and fell into whimpers. “You’re doing so good, Dorian.” The praise seeped through the lust-filled haze of his mind. He felt his body tremble. His fingers hurt from gripping the sheets so hard. He willed his body to relax with Bull’s soothing approval. “You’re so beautiful like this. Hard and flushed and shaking all for me.”

“Bull…” Dorian wasn’t entirely coherent anymore.

“Just relax.” Bull pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss on Dorian’s thigh. He waited for Dorian’s muscles to stop trembling. “Good boy.”

“Okay, I’ll grant you that the rimming was mind-blowing,” Dorian allowed, somehow finding the wherewithal to speak.

“Of course it was.” That was Bull: humble to a fault.

“But that is _not_ being ‘filled to the brim with a Qunari cock’.” Dorian couldn’t remember the exact words Bull had used, but his point was well-taken.

“We’re getting there, Dorian.” Bull laved his tongue against Dorian’s hole, shocking a needy yelp from his throat. “Patience.”

“I am an Altus from Tevinter,” Dorian reminded Bull, “I don’t _do_ patience. I get what I want when I want.”

“Right now, you’re a desperate, needy mess, begging me for a quick fuck.” Bull helped Dorian’s legs off his horns and held his body over Dorian’s with a grin.

“What’s the problem, then?” Dorian asked, lifting his chin. Bull’s mouth sealed against his. Warmth spread throughout his chest and Bull’s tongue, previously intimately acquainted with Dorian’s ass, probed past his lips. Dorian’s hands reached up to grab the thick biceps above him. He felt scars under his fingertips and started tracing them. One of Bull’s hands slid down his torso and gripped his hip firmly. Dorian dug his fingernails into Bull’s grey skin, trying to get some leverage to get _some damn friction_.

“Say ‘please’,” Bull murmured at the corner of Dorian’s mouth. Dorian stiffened, his pride prickling yet again. Bull kept pressing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and throat, distracting him with delightful shivers and goosebumps.

“Bull…” He was whining a bit. But just a bit.

“Say ‘please’,” Bull repeated. It wasn’t a request. It was an order. Only a fool would refuse that order. Dorian seemed to have become a fool, because he couldn’t get the word out. He didn’t _really_ try, partially because he figured he could ask with his body instead of saying that stupid word aloud. He’d never had problems being polite before, but the order was still grating at him.

“_Dorian._”

Dorian whimpered at the sound, his whole body thrumming with desire and want. Bull’s voice had dropped an octave from “sexy gravelly” tones all the way to “menacing warning” tones. It was a timbre that Dorian had only ever heard from Bull when he was about to kill somebody or something. That line, that _danger_, was what made Dorian obey. It was like he had been pushing for it, demanding that threat to keep him in line.

“_Please_, Bull!” The words were ripped from his throat.

“Good boy.”

The praise was _so much better_ once Dorian toed the line. Bull didn’t seem upset or irritated or even angry at Dorian’s pushing. In fact, he seemed rather pleased, his smug smile capturing his whole face. Maybe Bull liked the pushback as much as Dorian did.

“Good boy,” Bull repeated. He stole a lingering kiss even as he reached across the bed for something. Dorian knew it was oil, because only an idiot didn’t use oil, but it took him a moment to figure it out. He was still hung up on the “good boy”.

The oil was cold, probably from the night air of Ferelden, because was Ferelden ever _not freezing?!_ Dorian shivered as the liquid touched his bare skin. Bull’s hands, permanently hot, soothed the frigid goosebumps and pressed into his hole. Dorian couldn’t breathe and couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than the rimming. Bull’s fingers were _much_ thicker, and they kept twisting and quirking, reaching deeper into Dorian than Bull’s tongue could go. A bright burst of pleasure erupted up his spine.

“_Fasta vass!_” He cried out, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. Bull’s fingers held still for a few agonizing seconds before touching that sacred spot again. Dorian whined in the back of his throat, bit his lip to try to keep himself from screaming. It wouldn’t do to be _so_ desperate the first time. As if he hadn’t been desperate enough. He’d been wanting this since he met the Qunari.

“Bull, _please…_” His voice was wanton and breathy. Bull didn’t speak, but Dorian felt his breathing sharpen against him. He didn’t waste more time, just lined up and slowly pressed into Dorian’s heat. Dorian kept perfectly still, feeling the sweet pain of being filled completely. Bull was thick enough that he kept constant pressure on Dorian’s prostate. Dorian thought he was going to go mad.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Bull’s voice was soft, but the compliment lingered in Dorian’s ears. His brain helpfully supplied him with a myriad of witty remarks, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate. He rolled his hips, trying to get Bull to _move_. Bull groaned, a low, harsh sound that made Dorian’s cock twitch. Bull grabbed both of Dorian’s wrists in one hand, pinning them above his head with ease. His thighs spread open, forcing Dorian’s legs to accommodate, preventing Dorian from gaining any sort of leverage against him. Bull kept his weight on the hand holding Dorian’s wrists, somehow _not_ adding pressure to them, and gripped Dorian’s hip tightly with his other hand. Dorian found himself completely and utterly unable to move, just from the position Bull had him in. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Please, Bull. Fuck me.” His voice was soft, nearly inaudible.

“As you wish.”

Bull pulled out slowly, withdrawing inch after precious inch, before slamming his hips into Dorian’s. Dorian screamed. His head was thrown back and Bull took full advantage, leaning down to lick and bite the soft skin. He kept up the ruthless pace, retreating slowly and then thrusting home aggressively, yanking cry after sobbing cry from Dorian’s throat. Dorian had enough time to draw in a shaky breath between each thrust.

He was trapped, surrounded and penetrated (literally) by Bull’s almost oppressive heat. He suck the cold night air into his lungs and it burned, a sharp contrast from the searing heat of Bull’s skin. He couldn’t think beyond the overbearing pleasure. He longed to move, to do _something _to assist in Bull’s endeavors, but physically couldn’t _do_ anything. And he both adored and loathed it. He just wanted to _touch_ and _taste_ that dark skin, but at the same time, he was being dominated so thoroughly and fuck did he _want_ it. Bull didn’t seem to have any sort of issue keeping himself in check, and he pulled back slightly to focus his gaze on Dorian’s face. Dorian had never been self-conscious about his face _ever_ in his life. And the expressions he made during sex were no different. Bull seemed captivated by whatever he saw on Dorian’s face.

“Bull!” Dorian cried out the name, trying desperately to finish. He was _so close_. Bull pacified the need with a scorching kiss. He looked Dorian in the eyes, making sure he knew to focus.

“You want to cum, Dorian?” Dorian couldn’t speak, could only nod, biting his lower lip to keep from sobbing. Bull’s thrusting sped up, losing the slow, deliberate tease. Dorian could tell by the focus and smugness on Bull’s face that he wasn’t going to touch Dorian’s cock. He almost swore at Bull in frustration. But he knew the Qunari was bound, set, and determined to make him cum without touching him. Dorian struggled against Bull’s grip, fiercely trying to get _any_ form of friction.

“Cum for me.” Bull’s lips touched the shell of Dorian’s ear, a little rough against the soft skin. Dorian felt his spine stiffen. “Cum. _Now._” Bull’s voice was harsh and demanding and brooked no argument.

Dorian screamed, body bucking (as much as it could) within Bull’s forceful grip. Semen splattered across his stomach and chest, coating Bull’s expansive chest as well. All rational thought fled his mind as a tsunami of pleasure destroyed him. His orgasm lasted long enough that his balls started to ache. He collapsed on the bed, breath coming out in fast, staccato pants, and body shuddering in aftershocks. Bull never stopped what he was doing. The pressure on Dorian’s prostate was almost too much. He sobbed out a whimper at the overstimulation. Luckily, Bull didn’t take too much longer. He ducked his head and groaned, a long, low sound, his large cock pulsating inside Dorian. Bull’s breath hitched and his hips stuttered. Dorian jerked as Bull’s cock pressed rhythmically against that delicate bundle of nerves.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Bull muttered, his whole body trembling in a way that was definitely inflating Dorian’s ego. He had been so preoccupied with his own pleasure that he completely forgot about Bull’s. But whatever he had done, Bull wasn’t _nearly_ as unaffected as he pretended. Dorian let out a cry as Bull withdrew from his hypersensitive body. Bull released Dorian’s hands, slipped out from between his thighs, and rolled them over, pulling Dorian onto his chest. Dorian heard the heavy and strong thumping of Bull’s heartrate and the deep calming breaths he took.

“Good boy.” Bull murmured, his voice vibrating in his chest. “You’re incredible.” Bull had never been what Dorian would call a “talker” prior, but after having pinned him down and having his wicked way with him, Bull was just speaking nonstop. One hand trailed up and down the delicate line of Dorian’s spine while the other carded gently through his hair. Dorian felt his mind return from being scrambled, albeit slowly, as Bull spoke soft praises and caressed him carefully. Dorian took a deep breath, reveling in the deep, thick musk of sex and the heavy, spicy aroma of Bull. It was only then that Dorian noticed the sticky mess he had made all over both of them.

“This is disgusting,” Dorian pointed out, gesturing towards the splattered semen all over them. His mind still buzzed from the alcohol, but at least he wasn’t wanton with lust anymore. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Yeah.” Bull also seemed to just take note of the mess. “Let me get that.” Dorian rolled back to allow Bull the ability to get up. He reached under the bed (Dorian watched the muscles ripple in his back; he was sated, not blind) and retrieved a scrap of fabric. Bull wiped his skin clean before turning to look Dorian over. He just looked at the mage for so long that Dorian started to feel like a slab of meat.

“Might I clean up now?” He asked, primly.

“I like this look on you.” Bull didn’t respond. Dorian didn’t know how he was even capable anymore, but his blood boiled with pleasure at Bull’s words.

“Well, no matter how much _anybody_ likes it, I won’t sleep like this,” Dorian decided.

“Sad.” Bull frowned, but his eye was lit up in mischief. “I’m considering just licking you clean.”

Dorian spluttered, unable to come up with _any_ sort of comeback.

“You’re not seriously _suggesting_…”

“Oh, not yet.” Bull grinned. “I’m good, but I need more time, too.”

Dorian just blinked at him in confusion. If he wasn’t ready to go again, why did he want to do something so blatantly sexual?

“But I bet you’d enjoy it regardless.” Bull was grinning from ear to ear. Dorian almost rolled his eyes. He didn’t, because he was certain Bull would take it as a personal challenge and he was thoroughly fucked for the moment. He needed to rest and sleep off some of the alcohol.

“Give me that.” Dorian sat up and snagged the fabric from Bull’s fingers. He carefully wiped his skin clean and handed the scrap back. It was pretty much useless now that it had sopped up all that fluid.

“Made quite a mess there, Dorian.” Bull chucked the fabric into the corner. Dorian would have protested, but he was feeling nice and mellow and a low ache was starting to creep up on his lower back and ass. Bull slid back onto the bed and relaxed on his back.

“Forgive me, it’s been a while since my last release.” Dorian rolled his eyes. Bull looked at him, pensively.

“When was the last time?” He asked.

“I believe I was still in Tevinter.” Dorian thought back and couldn’t remember anything since then. Even Bull looming and flirting and being too damn attractive hadn’t broken that streak. And that was mostly because Ellana kept Dorian busy enough with research and traveling that he was usually too tired to do anything.

“No shit.” Bull looked suitably impressed. Dorian knew through the grapevine that Bull hadn’t had any trouble finding women to fuck. Dorian suspected that only half the rumors were true, but the number was still impressive. “You need to let loose more often. Otherwise, you’ll be tense and unfocused and I _really _don’t want a fireball in my back.”

“I never had a reason to before.” Dorian shrugged. “And everyone hated me, so letting myself be vulnerable like that wasn’t worth it.” He eyed the spot on Bull’s chest he’d been lying on previously and wondered if he could go back there. Not that he _needed_ to go back there. Frankly, he should just gather up his clothes and trek back to his room, where there was an _actual_ fireplace and a wash bin.

“C’mere.” Bull tugged gently on Dorian’s arm, settling Dorian back on his chest with a comfortable sigh. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

“Cuddling? _Really?_”

“You like it.” Bull was full of confidence. He wasn’t wrong, but Dorian wasn’t going to admit that he was right.

“What do you mean ‘done with me’?” Dorian asked. “What if I’m done with you?”

“Are you?” Bull looked at Dorian’s face, curiously. He didn’t seem upset or angry at the prospect of Dorian just up and walking away. It was both frustrating and appreciated. There wasn’t a connection between them. And there didn’t need to be. It could be totally casual, which would make the inevitable splitting of ways so much easier. Eventually, Corypheus would be defeated and the Inquisition would be no more. Dorian had already started thinking of plans to help his homeland and fix it. It would be long and difficult, but he was confident he could get them to change. He had no doubt in his mind that Bull also had plans for after Corypheus. And they did _not_ include Dorian.

“Well…” Dorian tried to find some wit and found himself lacking. “Not really, no.”

“Then, settle down and rest.” Bull yawned. “When I wake up in a couple hours, we’re going to have some more fun.”

Dorian felt his throat dry up and his face burn.

“How many…?”

“Until you tell me to stop.” Bull grinned. “Now, sleep, Dorian. You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”


	8. The Rest of the Night

It actually was Dorian who woke up a few hours later. He was bleary and barely conscious and aroused as all hell. His back was pressed firmly against Bull’s side and a blanket had materialized over them both. Bull was still on his back (probably due to the horns), but his bicep was pillowing Dorian’s head and his leg was tangled between Dorian’s. Dorian shifted so he could look at Bull. The Qunari, when asleep, looked so peaceful and relaxed. He didn’t have that constant potential for violence that he normally did. Dorian liked the look. He committed it to memory, since there was a distinct possibility of this never occurring again. He looked his fill of the Qunari, appreciating every scar. Out of curiosity more than anything else, he dipped his head and tasted the line running in a sharp slash across Bull’s bicep. There was a slight salty flavor, but didn’t really taste like anything. But the sensation of the scar tissue against his tongue made Dorian want to find a new scar and do it again.

So, he did.

Bull shifted in his sleep as Dorian tasted every scar he could reach without moving. His fingers ran along the scars as well. Hot fingers captured his in a gentle cage. Dorian looked at Bull, who blearily tried to focus his eye on Dorian.

“Not that this isn’t a _great_ way to wake up, but what do you think you’re doing, Dorian?” Bull’s voice was gravelly at best. Sleep made it even rougher and deeper, startling Dorian with how arousing he found it.

“I told you I wasn’t done with you,” Dorian murmured, planting his hands so he could hover over Bull’s torso. Bull was looking at him, sleep clearing from his gaze with every passing moment.

“What are you up to?” Bull asked.

Dorian merely grinned and bent his head to run his tongue over the thick scar running across his chest. Bull groaned, deep in his chest, and making Dorian’s ego swell.

“Sensitive?”

“Just a bit,” Bull agreed.

Dorian took his time exploring every single scar. He _needed_ to taste them all. But all too soon, he found himself face-to-face with Bull’s massive cock. Desperate need to _taste_ filled Dorian and he barely took a moment to prepare himself before he swallowed down a good chunk of Bull. Bull, for his part, swore and slid his thick fingers into Dorian’s hair. Dorian didn’t spend much more than a couple minutes testing out his, admittedly unpracticed, limits. At one point in his life, he would have been perfectly comfortable with the length and girth of Bull, but it had been nearly a year since his last tryst. Bull didn’t seem to mind, as he kept swearing and telling Dorian how good he was and how fucking hot it was to look down and see him taking so much between his pretty lips. Dorian hummed his appreciation and Bull groaned.

“Enough,” Bull demanded. He sat up and wrapped his hands around Dorian’s arms. Effortlessly, he pulled the mage from his task and onto his lap. “I’ll cum in your mouth later.”

“So impatient,” Dorian teased.

“Wait for it,” Bull warned. He dragged Dorian into a heavy kiss, his hands finding and kneading Dorian’s sore ass. “Think you can handle more?”

“Please, you’re not _that_ big,” Dorian lied through his teeth. Yeah, Bull was _that_ big. But, Dorian could definitely handle more. And the alcohol had long left his brain, so he wasn’t even impaired mentally anymore.

Bull chuckled and leaned back to grab the bottle of oil. Dorian stole the bottle and started preparing himself. Bull swore, eye totally and utterly focused on the sight of Dorian’s fingers being swallowed by his hole. Dorian felt his erection twitch at the pure lust and adoration on Bull’s face. Qunari spy he might have been, but he couldn’t school his face for shit.

“If you don’t hurry up, this’ll be over before it begins,” Bull murmured. Dorian twisted a bit, finding the awkward angle necessary for him to reach his own prostate. Pleasure burst in his gut and he arched his back, moaning unabashedly. He’d always been a bit of an exhibitionist, though he couldn’t remember the last time he convinced a partner to participate. Bull’s eye was so dilated that it looked black. Dorian grinned. Apparently, Bull was a voyeur. How appropriate.

“I dislike being rushed,” Dorian replied, archly.

“Too bad.” A half-second later, Bull was inside Dorian. His hands held tight to Dorian’s hips, controlling everything from the speed to the depth to the force. Dorian might have been on top, but he was by no means in charge. And he adored it.

“Ah, fuck!” Dorian grabbed onto Bull’s horns out of pure instinct. He didn’t miss the shit-eating grin on Bull’s face.

“Hold on tight, Dorian,” Bull ordered.

“Oh, please, that’s not even a good analogy.” Dorian’s voice turned into a squeak as Bull abruptly changed the tempo of his thrusts. Fast and hard and so much better than Dorian had ever experienced before. He swore again and dropped his head back.

“You’re still so tight,” Bull muttered, thrusting up as he pulled Dorian down. Dorian wasn’t sure where his voice went, so he just moaned in response. Bull’s cock was deeper than it had been earlier and the angle was a near-constant assault on his prostate. Dorian’s own cock was trapped between the two of them, rubbing against one stomach or another with every other thrust.

It didn’t take long for either one of them the second time. Bull produced a different scrap of fabric (where were these things coming from?!), cleaned them up, and pulled the blanket over Dorian, who had become boneless as he flopped across Bull’s chest.

Dorian was awoken a few hours later by straight heat tracing imaginary symbols on his back. He was face down on the bed and the blanket had gotten lost somewhere, so the cold night air was a sharp contrast to Bull’s fingers as they drew on his skin. It was threatening to melt him into a puddle. The ache in his lower back and ass hadn’t gotten significantly worse since the last time, so he felt pretty good.

“Scalding,” Dorian mumbled, sleepily, “how’re’y so hot? ‘S _cold_ here.”

“Always been warm-blooded.” Bull’s voice was soft.

“Feels good.” Dorian snuggled his face into the pillow. Bull chuckled. His fingertips led the rest of his hands onto Dorian’s back. His palms ran along the smooth skin and Dorian moaned. Bull didn’t pause, but Dorian, even barely conscious, felt Bull’s cock twitch at his hip. He wasn’t hard, and neither was Dorian, but he was definitely taking note. Dorian sighed as Bull started actively massaging his back. Bull’s fingertips dug into muscles, painfully removing the knots, and his palms soothed the ache away, leaving only relaxation in their wake.

Dorian didn’t realize how lewd the noises he was making were until Bull groaned softly. He suddenly was aware of the erection at his hip. His own cock was happily taking notice of the attention. Bull’s hands eased a particularly stubborn knot from Dorian’s lower back and Dorian’s moan was a little less appreciation and a little more flirtation. Bull noticed the difference.

“Enjoying this, are you?”

“I didn’t know how talented your hands were,” Dorian replied, trying not to drool.

“I’m glad you like them.” Bull’s hands moved down to massage Dorian’s butt. He kept his fingers purely platonic, but that made it all the more erotic in Dorian’s mind.

“Bull…” Dorian wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he _needed_. Bull seemed to understand the pleading, because his hands lost their professionalism. One hand disappeared for a few moments. Dorian hissed, arching his back, as the cold oil dripped down his spine. Bull’s hands followed the oil, warming it and rubbing it in. Whereas before the massage had been to help relax Dorian’s muscles, now it was purely sexual. Bull was actively trying to make Dorian a whimpering puddle of a human. And he was fairly successful at it, too.

Bull’s hands spread the oil across Dorian’s back and down his ass. Dorian was drooling all over the pillow, moaning and squirming under Bull’s touch. He felt like some sort of lust demon, delighting in all the sensual pleasure Bull was granting him. Bull’s breathing was sharp, and soft groans under his breath accompanied the whines that emerged from Dorian’s throat. Bull didn’t tease too much, sliding slick fingers into Dorian’s hole. The preparation took much longer this time, which Dorian thoroughly enjoyed. Bull took his time stretching Dorian wide, carefully and gently brushing past his prostate. He was riling Dorian up, but slowly and methodically.

“Ah, fuck me,” Dorian moaned, hands clenching the pillow under his head rhythmically.

“Soon,” Bull promised, voice husky. Dorian whimpered as Bull’s fingers retreated. Not soon enough (though it was probably only a few seconds), Bull pressed into Dorian. Unlike their other couplings, Bull kept his pace relaxed and almost gentle. His body sat flush against Dorian’s, wrapping him up in pure heat and pleasure. Bull slid one massive forearm under Dorian’s shoulders, pressing their bodies more firmly against each other. Dorian gasped for air. Bull hushed him softly, “it’s okay. Relax, Dorian. I’ve got you.”

The words filled Dorian with a lightness that he couldn’t explain. His chest tightened and tears pricked at his eyes. He was so, painfully aroused, and yet he was content to stay in that position, to let Bull ride him slowly to oblivion. He didn’t realize he had started begging until Bull touched his cheek, pulling him into an awkwardly-positioned kiss that somehow didn’t _feel_ that awkward.

“Shhh. You’re so beautiful. I’ve got you. You’re so good to me. Just relax.”

It took Dorian a couple seconds to find the self-control and strength to ease down from the nigh-hysterical desperation, but when he did, he was praised with a low “good boy”. And that made all the effort _totally_ worth it. Bull never stopped talking, praising and adoring every aspect of Dorian.

When Dorian’s orgasm hit him, it was a complete shock.

He had been so absorbed in the feel and sensation of Bull’s body filling him, surrounding him, he’d gotten so focused on the fond words being whispered in that deep, husky timbre, that he totally and completely missed the rising peak of his finish. Bull seemed similarly impaired, because not two seconds after Dorian finished, a startled, choking gasp was torn from Bull’s throat and his whole body shuddered. Dorian felt every pulse, every twitch of Bull’s cock and it felt amazing. He felt his eyes roll back as Bull swore softly in his ears, entire body trembling against Dorian’s.

Somehow, this orgasm hit Dorian harder and took more out of him than the last two. Perhaps it was the fact that it was his third of the night. Perhaps he was tired. Regardless, he was completely boneless and drooling all over the bed. Bull seem similarly affected. He shifted his arms so his full body weight wasn’t pressing down on Dorian, but seemed unwilling to move beyond that.

“Thought I was gonna have to buy you dinner before turnin’ you into a barely conscious, drooling mess of a ‘Vint,” Bull chuckled against Dorian’s shoulder. It took Dorian a couple moments to figure out how to speak.

“I’m perfectly awake, thank you very much.” His voice was hoarse, but the tone was all stuck-up Altus, as it should have been.

“Well, that’s good, ‘cause it looks like the sun’s up,” Bull replied, dryly. Dorian’s eyes popped open and saw that Bull had exaggerated a bit. There were faint tendrils of blue light creeping in through the windows and the massive hole in the roof. Dorian knew he didn’t have much time if he wanted to get back to his room to change. Some of the night guards would likely see him, but if he was careful, they wouldn’t know where he’d been and why.

“Time to go,” Dorian announced, though he was loathe to move.

“All right.” Bull rolled off Dorian, leaving him feeling oddly bereft. Dorian didn’t look at Bull as he rolled off the bed and started re-dressing quickly (after wiping himself off, of course). There were too many buckles on his clothes, Dorian decided. It looked amazing, but it wasn’t particularly efficient. He had never minded it before. Dorian realized, in the midst of tying his boots, that he had left his undergarments on the floor. He abruptly decided to just leave them. If Bull was amenable, he’d be back. How could he not? He’d had the best night of his life in the horrid room (and it _was_ pretty offensive to the eyes). If Bull was interested, he’d hold onto them. If he wasn’t, he’d give them back. And Dorian would know if he was welcome.

Mind made up, Dorian finished tying his boots and straightened, finally looking at Bull. Bull watched him, no real emotion on his face, almost like he was watching the snow fall or the clouds move. He seemed unattached. Which was kind of what Dorian wanted. (Never mind the remains of his heart that had been shattered by his family that longed for more.) But no strings attached worked better for him. He appreciated Bull’s lack of emotional reaction.

“See ya around, Dorian.”

Dorian nodded politely as he crept out of the room into the pre-dawn light, ignoring the shiver up his spine from how Bull said his name.


	9. A Business Proposition

“So, Dorian, about last night…”

Dorian decided he was going to have to kill the Qunari. There was no other option. Ellana shot Dorian a look that told him she was _so _going to interrogate him when they got back to Skyhold. They were on a routine check-up in the Hinterlands and would probably be back at the stronghold by that night. Sera started making kissy faces and noises at him. Dorian sighed heavily.

“Discretion isn’t you thing, is it?” His voice was dry.

“Three times!” Bull claimed, triumphantly. Dorian had no idea the man was _that_ proud of that fact. He hadn’t let on at all before Dorian left that morning. Ellana and Sera exchanged excited looks, grinning madly. “Also, do you want your silky underthings back, or did you leave those like a token?”

Dorian was regretting ever deciding to leave his undergarments. He couldn’t bring himself to regret the rest of the evening. He steadfastly ignored the frantic giggling and rude hand gestures the two female elves were making to focus on where he was planting his feet. They were on mountains and it was easy to lose their footing.

“Or… wait, did you ‘forget’ them so you’d have an excuse to come back? You sly dog!” Bull’s exaggerated wink (was it _really_ a “wink” when he only had one eye?) told Dorian that the Qunari was fucking with him and _totally_ understood what Dorian had meant by leaving his clothes there. But, he was going to make Dorian say it out loud. Which, Dorian thought was a bit mean. Though, considering all the orders Bull had given him the previous night that were utterly _fantastic_, Dorian couldn’t really talk himself out of following this one. Especially because he wasn’t sure when Bull was going to draw the line between “stubborn” and “not worth it”.

“If you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, I may or may not come,” Dorian hissed, trying to be a bit more circumspect.

“Speak for yourself,” Bull teased with a bright grin.

Dorian huffed out an impatient breath and ignored him to shoot a dirty look at the twin mischievous grins from Sera and Ellana. He was going to _kill_ Bull for this.

He managed to evade Ellana when they got back to Skyhold, but only just. She was a rogue, and a good one at that (once disappeared from all of Leliana’s spies for two days just to prove she could), so escaping her took all of Dorian’s skill. The fact that he escaped her by hiding in Bull’s room was another matter entirely. Not that he was alone, because Bull was definitely there. And Bull, instead of just going straight for the fun part of the evening, wanted to talk.

“So, listen, if we’re going to continue this…” Bull gestured between the two of them, searching for and subsequently _not_ finding an appropriate word, “we need to get some things straightened out.”

“All right.” Dorian crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe. His heart was pounding in nervousness, but Bull made it abundantly clear that _yes_, he would like to continue, so it made Dorian feel a bit better about the conversation.

“First, ground rules, just so everyone’s clear.” Bull’s face was solemn, like it had been the day he rescued Dorian from Conrad Whitley and his posse. “I will never hurt you without your permission. You will always be safe. If you’re ever uncomfortable, if you ever want me to stop, you say ‘katoh’ and it’s over. No questions asked.”

“No problems so far,” Dorian agreed.

“So, I’ve gathered a few things from last night,” Bull continued, “but is there anything you absolutely do not want any part of?”

“I’m not a glutton for pain.” Dorian was glad _this_ was the topic of conversation. He could talk about his wants all day every day. “So, anything like choking, slapping, spanking, or straight pain like that is not something I’m interested in.”

Bull nodded, but seemed a bit relieved. Perhaps Dorian was reading too much into it, but the Qunari didn’t appear to like giving pain any more than Dorian liked receiving it.

“You like being helpless,” Bull pointed out, “so, being tied up is fine?”

Dorian nodded, though he flushed a bit. The conversation was making his pants a bit uncomfortable, the only problem with discussing his wants.

“Role playing, dirty talk, ropes, and anything of that nature is fine with me,” Dorian expanded a little, “and exhibitionism or voyeurism is fine, too.”

“Thought you wanted to keep this private,” Bull pointed out.

“Well, you’ve already gone and ruined _that_,” Dorian retorted, “I don’t mean literally fucking in front of people. Either being watched by you or the threat of being caught fucking is what I mean.”

“Kinky.” Bull grinned. “Anything else strictly off limits? Blindfolds? You seemed to like the gag suggestion, too. And you _definitely _like being praised.”

“Everything else is fine.” Dorian tried in vain to _not_ imagine being gagged or blindfolded by Bull. “Just no real violence. What about you? Anything I should know that you’re against?”

“Hey, I’m good.” Bull shook his head. “I am _better_ than good. You, uh, don’t trouble yourself on that front. Ol’ Iron Bull is just fine.”

“There must be _something_ I can do, especially if you’re doing so much for me…”

“Dorian,” Bull chuckled a bit, “taking care of you _is_ what does it for me. That’s why I’ll never cum before you. I like giving you pleasure.”

Dorian flushed bright red as his mind caught up with that. So, Bull wasn’t doing this for selfless motives. Well, if giving Dorian a prodigious number of orgasms was what made him happy, who was Dorian to deny him?

“So, what’s on the docket tonight?” Dorian asked.

“Well, I haven’t bought you dinner yet, but I can’t stop thinking about gagging that pretty mouth of yours.” Bull’s eyes focused on the way Dorian sucked in a gasp with a smug grin. “But if I’m gagging you, we need a different signal if it’s too much.”

“I can use my magic to shock you,” Dorian suggested.

“Not a great idea.” Bull shook his head. “You don’t have great control of your magic when you’re in the throes of an orgasm.”

“I beg your pardon?” Dorian had perfect control of his magic, thank you very much.

“Each time you came last night, you turned into a human sparkler.” Bull shrugged.

“I did _not_!” Dorian wanted to sink into the floor. He hadn’t lost control of his magic from _anything_ since he was a teenager.

“Okay, tell that to my singed sheets.”

Dorian had no memory of this at all, but Bull held up his sheets, which quite obviously had tiny little scorched holes throughout the length of the cloth.

“I’ll replace those.” It seemed only fair.

“You kidding? That’s _hot_!” Bull waved the sheet like it was a flag, grinning massively.

“How about I kick you?” Dorian meant right at that moment, since Bull seemed likely to just drag the sheet around to show off to the Inquisition.

“Sure.” Bull was talking about the signal again. “But do it in a deliberate rhythm, so there’s no way it’s an accident.” Dorian walked across the room and punched Bull in the bicep twice in quick succession. He hesitated and then punched Bull again.

“Like that?”

“Yup!” Bull’s hands quickly grabbed Dorian by the hips before he could make any move away. Not that Dorian was _planning_ on getting away, but it was nice to be desired. “Now, about that gagging thing…”

Five minutes later, Dorian’s hands were tied to the bed with the ruined sheets, his mouth had a silk scarf shutting him up from all but the most base of noises, his legs were up on Bull’s shoulders, and his ass was stuffed with the Qunari’s cock. Bull took his sweet time pleasuring Dorian, ensuring that, had he not been gagged, he would have been screeching death threats at Bull. As it was, Dorian was sobbing for release long before Bull was finished with him. Bull edged him for a long time (well, it _felt_ like a long time) before reaching down and using his calloused fingers to jerk Dorian off. Dorian screamed (as much as he could) and completely blacked out.

When he returned to consciousness, Bull was spooning him, his hands petting Dorian gently as he praised Dorian from his obedience to his face when he came to how he singed the sheets again. It took Dorian a few minutes to come back to reality.

“What?” His voice was hoarse and his throat was dry.

“Shh…” Bull kissed the back of his neck. “You’re so beautiful. Just relax. You’ve been so good to me.” Dorian wisely shut up and let Bull take care of him. Once Dorian was no longer shaking (he didn’t even realize he _had_ been shaking), Bull got up and fetched him some water. Only a soft noise of protest from Dorian reminded Bull that _yes_, he _was_ completely nude and _no_, it _wasn’t_ advisable to go down to Herald’s Rest without any form of covering. By the time Bull returned, Dorian had snuggled underneath the blankets into a big mound of heat, trying to avoid any of his skin being touched by the night air.

“Drink.” Bull sat on the edge of the bed and held out the goblet. Dorian _really_ didn’t want to move, but he felt like it would be incredibly childish to tell Bull so. So, he emerged from his cocoon of warm and obliging drained the goblet dry. Bull chucked the goblet to the floor (which was why the bartender only gave him wooden ones) and eyed Dorian carefully.

“That might’ve been a bit much,” he acknowledged, “we should go slower.”

“What are you talking about?” Dorian asked, voice muffled by the blanket he had up to his nose. “Everyone enjoyed themselves and I’m fine. Did I give the watchword?”

“You were gagged,” Bull pointed out.

“Did I kick you?”

“Your legs were on my shoulders.”

“Bull.” Dorian reluctantly sat up, glowering at the Qunari for making him leave the nice warmth behind. “I am a grown man and an accomplished mage. I have experienced many things in my life, but never _once_ have I been forced into doing something I truly did not want to do. My parents, bless them, tried. If you think that fucking me into unconsciousness is something I didn’t want, then you need to remember who jumped whom.”

Bull tilted his head, watching Dorian with that indomitable _focus_ again.

“Besides which, I’m pretty sure I made it abundantly clear that I enjoyed every second of it, even _with_ the gag,” Dorian continued, “if _you_ can’t handle this, then tell me so and we’ll move on.”

“Hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” Bull shook his head. “I’ve never fucked someone to unconsciousness before. I thought I lost control there.”

Dorian opened his mouth to say something flippant, but he realized that Bull still hadn’t touched him since he left the bed. Granted, they’d only spent one night together, but Bull couldn’t keep his hands off Dorian the night before. He had skin-to-skin contact from the moment Dorian got into his bed until Dorian decided to get out. Dorian took a moment to re-examine the Qunari.

Bull sat stiffly on the bed. His pose was relaxed, but every muscle (and Dorian had them memorized) was flexed tightly. His gaze wasn’t even truly on Dorian, it was on the wall just behind him. And his hands were clenched into fists on his knees, like he was keeping them in check. Bull really _was_ scared he had hurt Dorian. Dorian didn’t realize how much that mattered until that exact moment. Bull was his lover (and it was _completely insane_ to even think of him like that, but Dorian secretly liked it) and he _cared_. Yeah, it was a fast-and-loose sort of deal they had going on, which, frankly, they hadn’t even really discussed _what_ was going on or how long it would last, but Bull (and it freaked Dorian out to admit it) was his friend.

Dorian had few friends throughout the years. Prior to joining the Inquisition, it was primarily Felix. His peers (the other children of magisters) had all had the Game holding them back from ever becoming truly friendly. And then, leaving Tevinter had torn a massive scar between Dorian and anyone from his home country. Ellana had been his first _real_ friend. Krem, his second. He recalled back to when Bull had been distant to him. Even _then_, Bull showed that he was concerned for Dorian’s safety. They had hardly ever exchanged words and Bull saved his life. Now, after months of travel together, and after Dorian had inadvertently befriended most of the Chargers, Dorian was realizing _how much_ the Qunari cared.

He felt like a total idiot.

“Bull…” He wasn’t sure what to say. But Bull was about to end things for them, Dorian could see it in his face. Dorian _could not _let that happen. “I think you’re right in your assessment; we _should_ go slower.”

Bull’s eye focused on Dorian’s face. “Didn’t expect you to agree with me, Dorian.”

“I don’t think you lost control.” Dorian shook his head. “And I don’t think you would ever hurt me unless I hurt you, first. I think you took care of me so thoroughly that my body decided to turn off. Take it as a badge of honor. You got the spoiled rotten Tevinter mage to cum so hard that he swooned.”

“Or I pushed you too far too fast and your body gave out.”

“Bull, you edged me for nearly half an hour there,” Dorian pointed out, “there was _nothing_ fast about that.”

Bull shut his mouth tightly.

“Look, we haven’t discussed a few things about this arrangement. I’d like it if we solidified a few details.”

“Sounds fair.” Bull was doing his best to impersonate a stone wall.

“This…” Dorian gestured between the two of them, “Is monogamous. I don’t fuck anyone else and you don’t fuck anyone else.”

“Agreed.” Bull crossed his arms and nodded.

“This is also mutually-agreed upon. Just because one of us wants some, doesn’t mean the other is beholden to it,” Dorian continued, “I know that I can get very clingy and needy, so you be sure to tell me when you’re not feeling it.”

Bull cracked a smirk, the first expression on his face since he came back from Herald’s Rest.

“I doubt I’ll ever _not_ be in the mood, but I agree. We _both_ agree or nothing happens.”

“And, we trust each other,” Dorian finished, “we do it in battle on a near-daily basis. I trust you to keep our enemies away from me so I can do my work and you trust me _not_ to hit you in the back with a spell. In this instance, we trust each other to know their limits. I know what I can handle and what I like. You need to trust that I know myself.”

“My only stipulation is that we communicate,” Bull replied, slowly, “if you feel like you’re getting to a limit, _tell me_. I don’t want any regrets from this. I’d rather know in the moment then find out later.”

“That goes both ways,” Dorian pointed out, “if I want something that you’re not comfortable with, you need to tell me.”

“Agreed.”

Dorian didn’t know why, but he felt the need to swear an oath or sign a contract or shake hands or something. It felt less like a fuck-buddy arrangement and more like a business proposition.

“Good, now get over here. It’s fucking _freezing_.”

Bull laughed, a genuine chuckle that made the corner of his eye crinkle in amusement, and obliged Dorian.


	10. Now Everyone Knows

Dorian slept in long enough that any sort of attempt to sneak to his room would inevitably end up in people noticing. Though, to be perfectly fair, Bull had well-advertised their… whatever it was. It was frustrating. It was obvious Bull wasn’t afraid or ashamed of sleeping with another man. Unfortunately, Dorian had been raised to such things. Tevinter was a terribly prudish country, all things considered. One could take their slaves to the market with them, but if the slave misbehaved, they couldn’t be punished in public. They would become pariahs for that sort of behavior. But, on the other hand, there were dens of pure sin scattered throughout the country where just about anything was allowed. Dorian had only been to one a handful of times. Enough to learn how things worked, but not enough to cause any sort of mark on his family name. (Well, except for that one time, but Alexius helped him out of that one, preventing permanent damage to the Pavus name.)

The point was: Dorian had never been allowed to _have_ a true relationship, much less let it be broadcasted everywhere. Though, he and Bull weren’t _in_ a relationship. It was an agreed partnership. When they needed to get laid, they’d go to each other. Simple. Straightforward. And not at all susceptible to getting screwed up by emotional ties. (Sarcasm, as much as he needed it, didn’t really make Dorian feel better about it.) Bull was watching him buckle the horrendous number of belts, patiently. He was already dressed, but considering the atrocious garments Bull considered _clothing_, Dorian figured it was faster and easier to dress for him. Bull snagged Dorian by one of the belts on his waist and pulled him against his chest, where he stole a slow, messy, highly arousing kiss.

Dorian hated that he was so easy (except he kind of didn’t).

“I think Boss is takin’ us out to the Emerald Graves tomorrow,” Bull remembered abruptly.

“Then we’re leaving at the crack of dawn.” Dorian sighed. He thought about whining about it, but he’d always been an early riser (present day excepted). “I should probably sleep in my own bed tonight, then.”

“Might be for the best,” Bull agreed.

Dorian let Bull leave the room first. He waited nearly half an hour before emerging and heading for the library, going for a casual look as he strolled along. He went through Cullen’s office, firstly because he liked the Commander, and secondly because it was _way_ faster to get to the library that way. Cullen himself wasn’t in the office, but a couple soldiers were obviously waiting for him to return so they could give him reports. Dorian didn’t envy Cullen’s job.

It took Ellana precisely ten seconds to corner him in his little nook.

“What is going on between you and Iron Bull, exactly?” She asked, though the laughter in her eyes told him she was more than a little aware. He detested rhetorical questions when they were directed at him. It made him feel like a small child. He sighed.

“If only there were a single discreet bone in that lummox.” He refocused on her attentive face. “Err… do you truly want to know? Is this official concern, or…?”

“I’m asking as your friend.” Ellana looked like she was about to punch him for insinuating otherwise. “How did I not know about this?”

Dorian didn’t think it wise to mention she was too busy making eyes at the Commander to notice him and Bull.

“I wouldn’t want anyone to know about this,” he admitted, “just like I wouldn’t want anyone to know I fancy Ferelden beer.”

“Oh, the shame, Dorian,” Ellana laughed. But her grin didn’t last. She looked at him, expectantly.

“Well, it’s something.” His voice was soft, like if he said it out loud, it would break. “A whole lot of something. At first, it was an ill-considered night after drinking. Then there was a second time, and then… I don’t know what’s ‘going on’, to be honest.” Dorian huffed an ironic laugh at himself. “I suspect neither does the Bull. Now that I’ve said it out loud, my ancestors are officially turning over in their graves. Ah, well.”

He turned away, successfully signifying the end of the conversation. Ellana had always been good at picking up his cues. He was understandably surprised when he felt a pair of thin arms wrap around his middle. Ellana had always been touchy, which seemed to be a Dalish thing, because she did it to everybody. She had hugged Dorian many times in their friendship. Even before that as when they had survived the future, she had hugged him just after hugging her whole team. Maker knew Dorian needed that embrace. It was a harrowing experience and being able to get some care and kindness afterward helped him mentally handle the entire thing. Sure, he had gotten ugly looks from other people, but they didn’t know or understand what Ellana and Dorian had survived together.

“I’m glad for you,” Ellana said into his back. Her whole front was pressed to his back as she hugged him tightly. Dorian put his arms around hers, hugging her back as best he could. “You deserve some happiness.”

“We’re not getting married, Ell,” Dorian pointed out.

“That’s not the point, Dor.” She buried her forehead between his shoulders. “You need touch. Not just in a sexual way. You’re almost Dalish in how you need physical touch to keep you grounded and happy. I need it, too. I can see how hard it was for you, growing up, with this ever-present _need_ that wasn’t being met.”

“I had a perfectly happy childhood,” Dorian corrected.

“But you weren’t complete.” Ellana’s words stabbed right into Dorian’s heart. “And I know this _thing_ with Bull is light and casual and _whatever_, but if he helps complete you, even for a little while, that’s something worth celebrating.”

Dorian never hated and adored someone as much as he did in that moment. She was right, bless her. But, she was right, damn her. Dorian _was_ needy and clingy and desired touch, even platonic touch, far more than anyone he’d met from his home country. Maybe that was why he latched onto Bull so hard. Bull granted him the touch he craved without any reservations, embarrassment, or shame. It almost seemed like Bull liked it as much as Dorian did.

“Ah! Excuse me.” Cullen’s voice was a bit high-pitched and a little unsteady. Both Dorian and Ellana turned their heads towards him. Cullen was bright red and trying to figure out the fastest way _out_ of the situation. Which, he was in the only room in the entire keep that had more doors than the main hall. Easy escape.

“Hey, Cullen.” Ellana didn’t let go of Dorian, but he could feel her bright smile aimed directly at the Commander. Whatever was going on between the two of them, it wasn’t officially _anything_. At least, not yet. Dorian was beginning to suspect that it wouldn’t be too much longer before either one of them snapped. They hadn’t even _kissed_ yet. It was starting to get irritating. Though, Dorian _did_ have a leg up on the betting pool for when they’d finally get together since the enamored elf came to him to talk about Cullen _every single day_.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Cullen started inching to the side.

“You’re not interrupting.” Dorian grinned. “Please, join us.”

“J-join…?” Cullen’s brain struggled with that for a long moment. “Uh…”

“Dor…” Ellana poked Dorian in the side in admonishment and finally detached herself from Dorian’s back. Dorian slung one arm around her shoulders, mostly to mess with Cullen.

“Conversation?” Dorian prompted Cullen. “You sought out this little nook for a reason, I assume. Did you need something from me? Or is it our lovely Inquisitor who demands your attention?”

Yeah, he was shameless. But, he was only a couple days away from losing the bet entirely. He needed to get them moving.

“Uh… actually… I was uh…” Cullen’s brain had shut down momentarily. Abruptly, he seemed to come back to himself. He held up the box that contained his chess set, deliberately looking at the air above Dorian’s shoulder. Like he couldn’t make eye contact.

“Sorry, I am in the middle of some research at the moment,” Dorian said, mock-dejectedly, “However, I don’t think Ellana is busy at the moment.” He intentionally looked down at the elf, whose ears had flushed pink.

“She doesn’t have to if–”

Dorian dropped his arm from her shoulders to plant his palm in the small of her back and shoving her unceremoniously forward. Cullen dropped the chess set to catch Ellana as she stumbled into his chest.

“Oh!” Ellana gasped and turned back to glower at Dorian, who wasn’t there anymore. Dorian, as soon as he shoved Ellana, slipped out of his nook and rushed down the stairs. Yeah, he was being manipulative, but he didn’t care. He wandered past Solas, who didn’t even glance up from his scrolls. “_Dorian!_” Solas looked up to where Ellana was leaning over the balcony.

“Please don’t…” Solas muttered. Dorian ran out of the room, knowing that Ellana sometimes jumped off the balcony (how she didn’t injure herself, no one knew), and could catch him easily. Varric was scribbling something down as Dorian hurried past. Probably some more of that trash he called literature. (Cassandra made Dorian read _every single book_ in that silly series she adored, so Dorian knew _exactly_ how bad they were.)

Dorian entered Herald’s Rest and felt like a bit of an idiot. He had _just_ left Bull’s room not ten minutes prior. So, he forced himself to ignore Bull’s looming presence in the corner (which just made Dorian want to do unspeakable things to him) and sat down beside Krem.

“Have you asked her, yet?” Dorian asked, by way of greeting. Krem jumped, startled and glowered at him.

“Have you stopped meddling in other people’s affairs?” Krem snapped, flushing a bit.

“Silly man, it’s in their best interests for me to meddle.” Dorian smiled.

“No,” Krem muttered, under his breath, “I haven’t asked her, yet.”

“Better get a move on.” Dorian shrugged. “At this rate, the Commander will get laid before you do.”

“Speaking of getting laid…” Krem turned a smug smirk on Dorian and Dorian instantly regretted the topic he chose. “How’ve you been sleepin’?”

“Just fine, thank you.” Dorian sniffed, primly avoiding looking over at Bull.

“That’s great.” Krem was still grinning, damn him. “The Chief has been pretty chipper.”

“I believe that he is _always_ ‘chipper’.”

“Not when he’s pining, he’s not.”

“I don’t _pine_!” Bull shouted from across the mostly empty tavern.

“This is a private conversation!” Dorian snapped, as Krem laughed.

“Then stop having it so damn loud!”

Dorian steadfastly ignored Bull and focused on Krem.

“I believe you were about to make a horribly transparent and probably offensive allusion to me having sex with the Iron Bull.” Dorian sighed, rolling his eyes. “And if you deign to utilize said allusion, I will have no choice but to start talking to Scout Harding.”

Krem glowered at him.

“I won’t talk about you,” Dorian promised, “just make horrible allusions to you.”

“I’m just glad that you two have finally stopped dancing around each other,” Krem replied, primly.

“Ah. You won the bet.”

“Yeah.”

“How much?”

“Plenty.”

Dorian spent the rest of the morning with Krem and the Chargers. Bull kept his distance, which was a bit odd, all things considered. But he was probably just trying to give Dorian space. Dorian _should_ have been appreciating it. Instead, when he curled up on his bed in his own room, all he felt was disappointment deep in his chest. He argued with himself about it for a long time, but no amount of logic made him feel better. Damn, he was so _needy_. It was only the second day of… whatever it was he had with Bull, and Dorian was already getting clingy. He was going to push Bull away if he didn’t calm himself down.

Dorian didn’t get much sleep that night.


	11. The Inner Circle

“So Bull, you and Dorian?”

Dorian groaned and tried to walk faster, to catch up with Ellana and blatantly ignore the conversation behind him. The Emerald Graves were as luscious and verdant as ever and Dorian hated every inch of it. Especially when Varric was deliberately taunting Dorian. (And no matter how much he’d pretend he was just being concerned for his friends, Dorian knew it was directed straight to him.)

“Mm-hmm,” Bull hummed in agreement. Dorian hated that the pair couldn’t have a quiet conversation if their lives depended on it.

“Two worlds tearing them apart, Tevinter and Qunari, with only love to keep them together.” Varric was rather quick off the mark with that one. Dorian assumed that he and Bull were about to be the subjects of an entirely new romance serial by the dwarf. He wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or flattered. (No, he was _definitely_ embarrassed, especially since he knew how well the dwarf wrote.) But, he couldn’t think of a way of discouraging Varric without letting him know how much it mortified him because that would just make the prospect _too_ irresistible. The dwarf was utterly shameless.

“I don’t see how this is even remotely your business, Varric,” Dorian snapped over his shoulder. He mentally slapped himself. _That_ wouldn’t raise any red flags, _nooo_… Dorian had just painted a big target on the subject, just begging Varric to fire at will.

“Could you make it sound angrier?” Bull asked, successfully intervening between Dorian and Varric, “love is a bit soft.”

Ugh. Why was Dorian attracted to him again?

“Please stop helping the dwarf.” Dorian sighed. Ellana was _definitely _eavesdropping, as she was grinning like a proper idiot at their words.

“How about passion?” Varric, too, was ignoring Dorian.

“Yeah, that’s better. Love is all starlight and gentle blushes. Passion leaves your fingers sore from clawing the sheets.”

The sad part was that Bull was completely and utterly correct in his sentiment as Dorian’s fingers _were_ sore from clawing the sheets.

“You could at least have the courtesy to use the bedposts,” he pointed out.

“Hey, don’t top from the bottom,” Bull admonished lightly, grinning as he did so. Varric laughed at the sour look Dorian shot them both.

“Passion it is, then.”

After a monstrous number of wolves later, Dorian was making his way through the group, healing as necessary. Ellana was covered in blood, but none of it was hers (which was just typical, all things considered). Varric sported minor scratches here and there where one wolf got too close, but they took little effort to heal. The Iron Bull, on the other hand, had decided to just let the swarm come at him while Varric, Dorian, and Ellana picked the wolves off him one at a time. As such, his back was clawed up something fierce and there were definite bite marks in his forearms. His pants were ripped, too, but not enough to make him indecent, just enough to bare more of that irresistible skin. (And Dorian needed to _not_ think that way when he was trying to heal, because it shot his concentration.)

“You’re such an idiot,” Dorian muttered, kneeling next to where Bull was settled on the ground. He got started healing, working his way up Bull’s body.

“What? It kept everyone else safe.” Bull shrugged.

“We could’ve devised a strategy that _didn’t_ include being chewed on by wolves,” Dorian pointed out, healing a particularly nasty bite mark on Bull’s calf.

“Eh.” Bull shrugged, noncommittally.

“Ugh.” Dorian made his disgust well-known with that one sound.

“Relax, Dorian.” Bull grinned. “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it!” Dorian’s voice turned into a squeak on the last word when a cheeky hand crept up the back of his thigh, gripping his ass boldly. He glowered at Bull, who looked utterly unrepentant.

“What?” Bull’s voice drifted lower in timbre and volume. “You don’t like it?”

“That’s not the point,” Dorian gritted out, feeling his face burn bright red. The hand stubbornly did _not_ let go of Dorian’s ass, and when Dorian needed to heal that hand, Bull’s other hand took up the job of fondling Dorian. (And Dorian hated that he liked it.) Neither Varric nor Ellana said anything as they made their way back to camp, so Dorian was hopeful that they didn’t see.

In the tent, Bull made it abundantly clear that it didn’t matter where they were at, he was completely willing and able to give them both orgasms. It took all of Dorian’s willpower to stay quiet, especially when Bull kept saying all the dirty and perverted things he wanted to do to Dorian in a husky whisper. Dorian adored the feeling of Bull surrounding him, caging him away from the rest of the world. When they finally passed out, they were covered in sweat and Dorian was draped over Bull like a human blanket. Dorian couldn’t remember being more content.

The next day was Sera’s turn to start questioning them about their relationship. She started the entire experience by laughing. Dorian couldn’t help but ask, as she was laughing while looking between him and Bull and leaning on him. (She wasn’t Dalish, but for all that she neglected personal space, she might as well have been.)

“Something particularly funny?” As soon as he spoke, he regretted those words. Asking Sera _anything_ was a gamble.

“You,” she snickered, “and Bull.”

“I-I’m glad it amuses you, but what I get from my affairs is my affair,” Dorian got out, haughtily. She usually got upset with his tone and would switch subjects to complain about his “rich, uppity-ness gold-shitting”. It was a great diversionary tactic when it worked.

“I know what you get.” Somehow, Dorian _didn’t_ expect the leer, though by all rights, he should have. “It’s like falling through a tree into custard.”

Even Bull turned to look at Sera like she was insane at that. She continued, ignoring all the odd looks.

“Too high! Wham! Too fast! Wham! Leaves! Wham! Splat!”

Somehow, Dorian’s brain managed to make sense of the dilapidated analogy.

“I’m not sure which is worse,” he muttered, “the mockery or the accuracy.”

“Eh, depends how much rest the trees had,” Bull decided with a shrug. He slung his arm over Dorian’s shoulders and pried him away from Sera. Ellana waggled her eyebrows at Dorian with a smirk. Dorian stuck his tongue out at her, which felt so incredibly like Sera that he was starting to wonder if he was adopting some of her mannerisms. (Sweet Maker, he hoped not. He’d rather not start taking on the characteristics of _any_ of his companions, thank you very much.)

Weirdly enough, that night Bull and Dorian _didn’t_ have sex, though by all rights they could have. Instead, they _talked_. Dorian learned about Bull’s experiences on Seheron (which, he already knew, but from Ellana and Krem not from _Bull himself_) and Bull got to hear the full, unadulterated story of what Dorian’s father had tried to do. It was surprisingly tender, and it made Dorian feel warm and comfortable and absolutely terrified at the same time. He didn’t stop himself from snuggling into Bull’s side that night, though.

They were heading back to Skyhold when Cassandra decided to voice her opinion, and, unfortunately for her, Dorian was getting irritated by the commentary from their companions, so he wasn’t as polite as he normally would have been.

“So, Bull, about Dorian…”

“Yes, it’s true.” Bull didn’t even hesitate and the surety and ease in his voice made Dorian’s gut clench. He wasn’t supposed to be _feeling things_ for the Qunari, but Bull was so calm and confident. It made Dorian feel _wanted_, which wasn’t a sensation he was used to. He was so confused by everything and the night before that he snapped out before he could reign himself in.

“By all means, let us discuss this together.”

“If…” Cassandra glanced at Dorian warily. She, at least, caught that the subject wasn’t one Dorian was comfortable with. “You’re both pleased…”

“I’m happy, he’s happy, everyone’s happy,” Dorian replied, shortly.

“Oh… you’re happy…” Bull sounded so pleased that he was “just learning” that Dorian was happy that it made Dorian roll his eyes. He sighed and bit back a smile. Bull was just so over the top. It meshed so well with Dorian. Cassandra laughed, looking between the two of them. Dorian glanced over to see Bull with a bright grin on his features. It made his heart stutter.

Vivienne caught up with Dorian as they caught sight of Skyhold. She was perfectly pleasant, which he hadn’t much expected from an Orlesian (though Ellana didn’t understand how civil they were), but he would never again trust her opinion on wine. There was wine, and then there was the swill that she _insisted_ was wine. Still, they had always been cordial.

“I received a letter the other day, Dorian,” Vivienne began, calmly.

“Truly?” Dorian didn’t know why her correspondence was suddenly his business. “It’s nice to know you have friends.”

“It was from an acquaintance in Tevinter, expressing his shock at the disturbing rumors about your... relationship with the Iron Bull.”

Dorian’s heart sank into his gut. He hadn’t thought about that. The Inquisition was big enough with enough of the world’s focus that _any_ rumor would be spread far and wide. Chances were, the rumor was from back before he and Bull slept together, when Bull was insistent on flirting non-stop.

“Rumors you were only too happy to verify, I assume.” Dorian’s voice wasn’t cold, not precisely, but it wasn’t nearly as warm as it had been moments before. Bull was walking farther ahead, playing some sort of chess match with Solas, but it was like he knew, because he glanced back at Dorian anyway.

“I informed him the only ‘disturbing’ thing in evidence was his penmanship,” Vivienne replied, lightly. Dorian’s brain faltered. He hadn’t expected that reaction at all.

“Oh.” He had lost his wit. “Thank you.”

“I am not so quick to judge, darling,” Vivienne added, gently, “see that you give me no reason to feel otherwise.” She sauntered off to walk with Ellana, leaving Dorian feeling like an idiot. Vivienne had made it abundantly clear that she was an ally. She might have been a master of The Game, but she had never stabbed anyone in the back (as far as Dorian knew, which could just be naïve of him). Still, it was nice to know that she was supporting him in his efforts to be a bit more circumspect.

Thinking about it, Dorian realized that everyone had been pretty supportive of… _whatever_ he had with Bull. It was… weird. Endearing, yes, but quite odd. Tevinter didn’t approve of non-heteronormative individuals, hence why both Dorian and Krem had escaped from their homes. But Dorian fully believed he could change his homeland. He had to, else his whole life was for naught. Still, the other members of the Inquisition were prying into his life because _they cared_.

Dorian hadn’t been cared for since he was an angry, drunk teenager and had to be babysat by Alexius. And even then, it wasn’t as peers. Alexius was his mentor, always a step above, in a completely different tier of respect. In the Inquisition, he was equals with everyone (except Ellana, but don’t tell _her_ that because she’d get irritated about her position and how she didn’t feel like she was worthy of that kind of attention and respect). So, when Vivienne and Cassandra and Sera and Varric all made it abundantly clear that they really _did not care_ that Dorian and Bull were lovers, Dorian wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.

He had been through quite a bit of emotional shock over the past couple of days. It was hard enough for him to handle being someone’s lover (a title which still made him twist uncomfortably), much less the blatant acceptance with no loss of respect from his compatriots. As such, Dorian settled in his room that night, snuggling into his bed and trying to turn his brain off as it (un)helpfully reminded him that Bull was _much_ better at keeping him warm than the wool blanket.


	12. Being Owned

Dorian’s life shifted for the absurd not a handful days after their return from the Emerald Graves. (_Yes_, he’d been sleeping with Bull those several nights.) He was playing a game of Wicked Grace with the Chargers (Bull was lurking in his corner, watching over them and not engaging), when Scout Harding threw open the door to Herald’s Rest, red-faced.

“It’s happening!” She yelled.

Instantly, everyone got to their feet. Dorian wasn’t the first out of the tavern, but he was right behind Krem. The large group congregated at the nearby wall, craning their necks. Harding pointed at two figures standing close together atop the battlements and everyone shut up, squinting to make out what was happening. Immediately, Dorian knew what was happening. The two figures were interrupted by a third individual and the onlookers groaned. Their irritation was swiftly dispersed when the third person was dismissed. The larger figure turned around and took the other in his arms. As soon as the two heads touched each other, the audience started cheering.

“Finally.” Dorian sighed, in relief. One, because he _totally_ won that bet. And two, because Ellana’s pining was starting to irritate him. Not to mention, she would be happier and a Happy Inquisitor was the best thing for everyone involved, really.

The two figures parted for a moment, but only for a moment. As they continued kissing, the crowd went from cheering that _it finally happened_ to leering and making crude comments. Which, was pretty normal, all things considered. Cullen pulled back from Ellana again and glanced around. Everyone ducked behind the wall, shutting up immediately. Dorian felt like a teenager sneaking around, and started snickering at how absurd everything was.

“Shut it,” Krem hissed, but he was also grinning.

“Get back inside before they notice!” Harding snapped at the group. Krem was the first to start herding the mass of soldiers, mercenaries, and scouts back into Herald’s Rest. Dorian lingered behind. He had to get back to his nook in the library before Ellana stopped making out with the Commander because there was no doubt in his mind that she’d come to him first to tell him _all about it!_

“Took ‘em long enough.” Bull nodded in approval at the pair on the battlements. Dorian jumped. How he hadn’t noticed the Qunari, he didn’t know anymore.

“She’ll be along shortly.”

“She will.”

Impulsively (and it had nothing to do with Dorian getting sick and tired of Bull being stand-offish around other people now that they were suddenly lovers when irritating flirting was _totally _fine when they weren’t), Dorian stood up on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Bull’s jaw. Bull’s lips quirked into a small smile. Dorian’s gut fluttered as he smiled back.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a hysterically happy elf to handle.” He tilted his chin up to the battlements.

“Go ahead.” Bull tugged Dorian close for a moment to kiss his temple before releasing him as swiftly. Bull went back into Herald’s Rest and Dorian tried to figure out what had just changed. Whatever had just happened _felt_ significant. But nothing had happened. And nothing had been said. Dorian shook his head and went back to his nook, trying to focus on Ellana. It was easier than thinking about his own issues.

When Ellana came running (yes, _running_) into the library, Dorian couldn’t help the smirk.

“I hear somebody has a thing for strapping young templars.”

Ellana’s ears turned bright red, but she was grinning like a maniac.

“Maybe a little.”

“A _lot_,” Dorian corrected.

“How’d you know?” Ellana asked. “It only just happened…”

“I have my ways, darling.” Dorian shooed her into the chair and settled on the windowsill. “Now, tell me _all_ about it. You’ve been _pining_ and I need to know details!”

“Oh, he’s so _adorable_ it’s almost _painful_!” Ellana started talking, a waterfall of sound that she couldn’t have kept to herself if she tried. “He was shy and sweet and it was really cute and then a scout interrupted him with some report from Leliana and then he got really impatient and forgot about being self-conscious and he got so confident and forceful and it was _really_ good, Dor!”

Dorian laughed and relaxed on his perch, teasing and letting her giggle over Cullen. It lifted his spirits, seeing how completely enamored she was over him. And it was so obvious he was even worse than she was. When Ellana finally left his company (after talking his ear off, eating dinner with him and talking _more_), Dorian made his way to his room automatically. When his door swung shut behind him, he belatedly realized where he was at. He had been looking forward to spending some more time with the Qunari, but he was distracted by Ellana’s happy glow. It was a shame, really. He took his time readying himself for bed and pretending like he wasn’t upset for not being with Bull. It was far too late to go hunt the Qunari down. He’d just have to suck it up. It wasn’t Bull’s fault Dorian’s brain went on autopilot.

Dorian was half-naked, wearing only a pair of loose trousers to sleep in, when there was a heavy knock at his door. Dorian froze, heart thudding loudly in his chest. There was _no way_ it was Bull. Their whole relationship was one of want. When they wanted sex, they had it with each other. Dorian had _always_ been the one going to Bull. Because he was needy. Bull had more self-control. He didn’t need Dorian.

Dorian opened the door, hyperventilating just a little.

Bull was looming on the other side of the door.

Dorian almost shut the door, out of pure shock.

“You mind havin’ some company tonight?” Bull asked. He looked completely calm and relaxed and like there was _nothing_ Dorian could say that would upset him. Dorian realized in that moment that Bull was asking _permission_ to spend the night together. _Bull_ was asking. Dorian would be an utter moron to turn that down. He cleared his throat nervously and stepped back, holding the door wide for Bull to enter the room.

“Not at all, come in, please.” Dorian felt underdressed, which was just absurd, considering Bull was only wearing his pants (because shirts were just _asking_ for trouble with his horns), so they were at the same level of nakedness. Plus, knowing what they were about to do made the notion of being underdressed all the more ridiculous.

“Nice place.” Bull looked almost too big for the space.

“It has a ceiling,” Dorian agreed, though he privately thought that perhaps the lack of ceiling would have helped make Bull look less _massive_.

“Shame.” Bull shook his head. “What’s my excuse for using you as a blanket now?”

“My window sticks open,” Dorian blurted out, lying blatantly. Bull looked at the window, pointedly, which was quite obviously shut. Dorian threw a ball of energy, destroying the window before his brain could even catch up. “Nasty draft, too.”

“Hmm… looks like it’ll be a chilly night.”

“Indeed.”

“Let me see what I can do about that.” Bull pulled Dorian into his arms, his skin burning Dorian’s with his heat. Dorian kissed Bull, hard and a little desperate. He’d been _so sure_ he’d blown his chance this evening. And Bull was _here in his room_ (which should have been a warning flag that things were changing). Dorian ran his hands over the muscles and scars, shuddering under Bull’s possessive touch. Bull’s palms pressed into Dorian’s back, forcing their chests together.

“I figured out why you always wear those damn buckles,” Bull decided, tilting his head to nibble at Dorian’s neck and ear.

“W-why?” Dorian was panting like a damn mabari.

“Because if you showed any more of this skin–” Bull’s hands were firm as they roamed Dorian’s bare torso, “–people would be jumping you left and right.”

The compliment would’ve made Dorian preen under normal circumstances, but his ego had been shoved to the side in favor of his libido.

“Too bad for them,” he murmured, stealing Bull’s lips and tongue clumsily.

“Why ‘too bad’?” Bull asked. Dorian wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation.

“I’ve been called for already.” Dorian felt Bull’s hands still and whined under his breath. Dorian started kissing his way down Bull’s body, wanting to touch and taste the hard length of his erection. It was driving him mad, just feeling it press into his stomach. He needed more.

Bull swore as Dorian tugged his pants down to his ankles, exposing him. Dorian didn’t hesitate, just started licking and sucking as much as he could. Big hands buried into his hair, tugging the locks with just enough force to take control of Dorian’s movements.

“I like you on your knees for me,” Bull said, “you’re a good cocksucker, you know that? Didn’t think you could handle me, but you do. Good boy.” Dorian didn’t think he could get any more aroused, but then Bull started talking and he felt his cock twitch and start to leak. Bull only let Dorian suck a few more times before he hauled Dorian up onto his hips. Bull stepped backwards until he sat on the bed with a _thump_.

“I’m concerned that I’m getting unduly attached to being praised,” Dorian informed his lover, settling himself on Bull’s lap. He kept forgetting how _big_ Bull was, as a person. His thighs naturally pushed Dorian’s legs wide apart. It was both humbling and arousing.

“Not like I can spoil you,” Bull pointed out as Dorian fumbled with shimmying out of his trousers, “you’re already there.”

“Still, it wouldn’t do to have it become a weakness,” Dorian argued. Bull chuckled and helped him with his pants. Dorian bit back a moan of pleasure as his erection rubbed against Bull’s.

“Enjoyment is not a weakness,” Bull disagreed, “For example, I enjoy looking at you. You’re beautiful walking around Skyhold. You’re even more stunning when you’re falling apart, begging me for more even as you cum on my dick.”

Dorian shifted against Bull’s body as his cock jerked.

“I also enjoy those whimpering, panting moans that you make when you’re _so close_ to finishing. Or, even better, the desperate, needy whines you make when I’m splitting you in half. Fuck, you just _love_ getting filled to the brim, don’t you?”

“I-I… That’s not…” Dorian lost any and all ability to be coherent.

“You want this, don’t you, Dorian?”

Dorian’s name on Bull’s lips was an aphrodisiac. Dorian didn’t know he could get _more_ aroused than he was.

“You want me to tell you how beautiful you look while listening to you beg me for _more_. You want me to _conquer you _and tell you how _good_ you are for taking everything I give you.”

It wasn’t just a statement. Bull was deliberately asking for confirmation. Dirty talk was his way of teasing out what Dorian wanted from their bedroom adventures. Most of the time, Bull knew without Dorian’s input (though he always asked to make sure). Dorian guessed his spy background was what gave him the leg up. Dorian would also _never_ complain about his spy background _ever again_.

“I…” Dorian’s legs were trembling. His mind struggled to make sense of what _exactly_ he wanted. He wanted so many things and choosing just one (especially when his experiences with Bull had opened up a world of possibilities) was nigh impossible. He wanted it all. And at the same time, he just wanted an orgasm, plain and simple.

“Tell me, Dorian.” Bull’s voice was a deep command. “Tell me what you want.”

Bull had asked Dorian a myriad of times in the short span they had been lovers what Dorian wanted. And Dorian had answered in a variety of ways (from “gag me” to “tie me up” to “I want to cum on your face” with many answers in between). Tonight, he was feeling a bit different.

“I want you to fuck me however you want.” Dorian’s tone wasn’t a question, but he was asking permission all the same. “I want you to _own me_. I don’t want to have any choice and I don’t want to make decisions.” Dorian was well-aware of the irony.

“Can do.” Bull nodded solemnly, like he was accepting a mission from Ellana or swearing a vow. “You’re mine now, do you understand?” Dorian blinked at the sudden change in tone. All at once, Bull was a bit more intense, a bit more _aggressive_. And Dorian adored it. Bull took Dorian’s chin in his hand and made Dorian look him in the eye. “_Do you understand?_”

“Yes, sir.” The reply was automatic. They hadn’t done this before. Dorian was shaking in anticipation.

“Good boy.” Bull reached down to pull Dorian’s trousers all the way off. Dorian didn’t ask, as he figured being surprised would be more enjoyable for him. Bull stole another scorching kiss from Dorian as he began tying the fabric around Dorian’s wrists and arms. A few moments later, Dorian’s arms were trapped against his back. The cloth was tight enough to prevent him from moving, but loose enough to not cause chafing or bruising. He’d been tied up by Bull a handful of times at this point, and he was still amazed at the pure skill the man had with ropes and cloth.

“Nervous?” Bull’s gaze roamed over Dorian, making silent decisions as to what he was planning. For his part, Dorian was trapped. His arms were tied up, his legs were spread wide, and he couldn’t stop himself from rocking his hips forward, silently begging for more.

“I’m never nervous,” Dorian replied, tightly.

“Don’t lie to me,” Bull ordered, his hands gripping Dorian’s hips to still the rocking movements.

“Y-yes.” Dorian flushed.

“Yes?”

“I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous…?” Bull trailed off, narrowing his gaze at Dorian.

“I’m nervous, sir,” Dorian corrected.

“Good boy.”

The praise filled Dorian’s gut with pleasure, as it always did. It shouldn’t have, not anymore (not with Bull saying “good boy” to every little thing Dorian did during sex), but it still had Dorian hooked.

“You’re going to ride me, Dorian,” Bull told him, “and you won’t cum until I tell you to.”

“Yes, sir.” The words were coming from Dorian’s lips with a sense of ease and delight. Dorian enjoyed every moment he’d shared with his lover, but being told what to do… it reminded him of their first night together but to an even greater extreme.

“Relax,” Bull ordered. Where he had gotten oil from, Dorian had no idea, because the fingers probing at his hole were slick and Bull hadn’t moved from his position on the bed. Dorian obediently forced his muscles to unwind. Bull then started talking and it was all Dorian could do to follow Bull’s order to _not cum_.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Bull hissed, twisting and crooking his fingers inside Dorian, “Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock. You’re going to take it so good, Dorian.” Dorian whimpered, arching his back and wriggling as best he could in the confines of his position. “You like this, don’t you? You like being helpless in my grip, my fingers stretching you wide, listening to me tell you _exactly_ how I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name. Isn’t that right, Dorian?”

“Oh, fuck,” Dorian muttered, hearing Bull’s words, but not comprehending the question, “yes, sir.” The words weren’t even on purpose anymore, but it seemed like the best answer.

“I’m going to split you in half with my cock,” Bull promised, nibbling on Dorian’s ear, “You’re going to ride me. And, right when you think you can’t take anymore, you’re going to _beg_ me to let you cum. But, I won’t let you. No, you won’t get to cum until I’m done with you. And, there’s _nothing_ you can do about it.”

“Yes, sir, I want it.” Dorian didn’t know what he was agreeing to anymore, but _Maker_, did he want it. Bull didn’t wait, just slicked his erection up and pressed inside Dorian, drawing a long moan from the man’s lips. Once Dorian was fully seated on Bull’s cock, Bull took his hands off Dorian’s hips.

“Fuck yourself on me,” Bull ordered. Dorian’s thighs were trembling as he lifted himself up and dropped himself back down on the massive length. He started shaking, his breathing coming in nigh-hysterical pants, as he struggled to maintain any form of rhythm while he bounced up and down. Bull swore softly, watching Dorian avidly. He couldn’t seem to decide which was more fascinating to watch: Dorian’s face, or the image of his own cock being swallowed up by Dorian’s ass. It didn’t matter much to Dorian, because he was losing all sense of reality and time, just riding Bull like his life depended on it.

“Oh, please,” Dorian murmured. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for. “_Please_, please, please, please…” Bull’s hands came up to stroke gently at Dorian’s thighs.

“Please, what, Dorian?”

“Ah, fuck. Please, Bull, _sir_,” Dorian corrected himself, “ah, sir, I need to cum.”

“No.” One of Bull’s hands wrapped around the base of Dorian’s cock, tight and immovable. Dorian yelled in shock and irritated desperation. “You’re not going to cum, yet.”

“Fuck, _please_, sir! I need it, I need to cum, fuck, please let me cum!” Dorian begged.

“No.” Bull jerked his hips up, breaking Dorian’s rhythm, and startling a yelp from him. “I’m not done, yet.”

Something in the back of Dorian’s mind reminded him of a crucial statement Bull had made previously (“I’ll never cum before you”). To Dorian’s ears, it was a challenge. Determination to finish Bull first helped ease him off the cliff. He was _going_ to make the Qunari finish first. And it was his own, silent goal. Bull couldn’t know or he’d ruin it.

“Good boy,” Bull moaned, long and low, when Dorian started riding in earnest, ignoring the burning in his thighs. He had a mission now. He was going to win. He clenched all the muscles he had onto the girth of Bull, yanking a curse from his throat. Bull’s hands found Dorian’s hips and his fingers dug in, silently warning him. Dorian chose to play the idiot, and clenched again.

“What are you up to, Dorian?”

Dorian didn’t answer, though Bull’s grip on his hips was impacting his ability to ride Bull. One of Bull’s hands reached up, pulling Dorian’s hair enough to make him tilt his head back. Dorian stilled, waiting to see what Bull would do.

“Did I say to stop?”

“No, sir.” Dorian started rocking forward again.

“What are you up to, Dorian?” Bull tugged a bit on Dorian’s hair, just a tiny reprimand that was more pressure than anything else. “_Answer me._”

“I just want to pleasure you, sir.” The answer was torn from Dorian’s throat before he could try to moderate his response. Bull eyed Dorian carefully. A slow, smug smirk covered his features.

“You’re trying to get me to cum first, aren’t you?”

Dorian shook his head.

“Don’t lie to me, _Dorian_.”

Dorian bit his lip, trying to focus on the questions and the stretch of his ass and the scalding rod of heat pressing into his prostate every time he shifted at all. He was failing miserably and it was the interrogation (arguably the most important part) that he was losing.

“I want to help you cum, sir,” Dorian whimpered at a particularly brutal thrust from Bull, who was taking an extreme amount of pleasure in occasionally thrusting up into Dorian, mostly to throw him off his stride (it worked _very_ well).

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” Bull pulled Dorian’s face to his, demanding total submission with only his lips and tongue. Dorian melted into the kiss, letting Bull take his fill. Bull’s hands gripped Dorian’s thighs and hoisted him off Bull’s cock. Dorian whined at the abrupt emptiness and wriggled in his bonds. Before he could do much more complaining, though, Bull deposited him on the bed, face pressed into the mattress and knees planted wide apart, sticking his ass up. Bull shoved back into Dorian, all the way to the hilt. Dorian screamed. Bull’s fingers dug into the hollow of Dorian’s hips, holding him perfectly still with minimal effort.

“_Yes_.” The word hissed from Dorian’s lips without any effort.

“No cumming,” Bull reminded him before he started riding Dorian’s ass with all the wild, animalistic power that only he was capable of. Dorian knew he was talking, and Bull was responding, but he couldn’t for his life tell you what had been said. All he could do was _feel_. Feel the firm grip of Bull’s fingers on his hips, feel the hard length ramming into him with enough force to make him feel like he was literally going to split in half, feel the helplessness of being totally unable to move within the bonds Bull placed on him…

“I-I’m gonna cum!” He realized he was mere seconds from finishing and knew he had to warn Bull. If he didn’t obey the direct order… Dorian was sure if he was going to enjoy or loathe the consequences of that. Bull immediately froze, giving Dorian _nothing_ to work with. Dorian cried out pathetically, desperate to finish.

“Not yet,” Bull told him, voice dark, “you don’t get to finish until I say. Breathe through it. Calm down. I’m not done with you.”

Dorian complied, but hated it. He just wanted to _finish_ already!

“That’s right. Good boy.” Bull ran soothing hands along Dorian’s shoulders, easing some of the strain from him. “Relax for me. Good.”

“P-please, sir.” Dorian wasn’t begging. Not yet. But he was close.

“Shhh…” Bull pulled Dorian upright, wrapping one hand around Dorian’s chest to let his fingers wrap around Dorian’s neck. He wasn’t putting pressure there, not choking (since that was explicitly something Dorian wasn’t a fan of), but more like a collar. Bull’s fingers were a heavy weight, but they felt possessive more than aggressive. Dorian adored the sensation. (And maybe discovered a new appreciation for some other kinks he hadn’t explored yet.) Bull’s other arm pressed across Dorian’s lower abdomen, keeping their hips pressed close together.

Dorian could only breathlessly cry out with every thrust. He dropped his head back onto Bull’s shoulder and arched his back, trying to maintain that position. Bull started fucking Dorian in earnest again, licking, nibbling, and sucking on the bronzed skin of Dorian’s neck.

“Oh, please, please, _please_, sir!” Dorian felt his orgasm building in his balls yet again. He wasn’t sure he could keep himself in check anymore. Bull was too good and felt too good.

“Do you want to cum, sweetheart?” Bull asked, voice dark with promise.

“_Yes_, sir!” Dorian cried out. “_Please_ let me cum!”

“You’ve been very good so far,” Bull considered, slowly, even as his hips drove Dorian mad, “but, I don’t want to let you go yet. You’re so beautiful like this: a drooling, begging mess. I just want to keep fucking you until you lose your mind.”

“Sir, I need to cum!” Dorian couldn’t appreciate Bull’s words. Only one thing mattered anymore. “_Please_. Fuck. Let me cum, sir.”

“All right,” Bull agreed, _finally_, “you may cum.”

Dorian didn’t comprehend the words at all.

“_Cum now, Dorian_.”

Dorian wailed and felt every muscle in his body jerk uncontrollably as he shot rope after rope of semen all over his blankets.

“Good boy,” Bull murmured, his own hips stuttering. His cock throbbed in Dorian’s ass, twitching desperately as he filled Dorian with his thick, milky goo. Dorian moaned at the sensation and collapsed back on Bull, utterly boneless and sated.

Bull took a moment to redirect blood flow from his crotch to his head before starting to clean up. Dorian was given a glass of water, but only after Bull cut the trousers off Dorian. He gratefully drank before passing the rest of the beverage back to his lover. Bull stripped the messy blanket from the bed, replacing it with the spare Dorian kept in his chest (Ferelden was _fucking cold_, all right?!) How Bull knew it was there, Dorian didn’t know, but considering he could barely move _at all_, he was thankful Bull wasn’t similarly impaired.

“Fuck,” Dorian decided, waiting impatiently for Bull to finish up his post-coital chores. He wanted to snuggle the Qunari in gratitude. Dorian himself didn’t even realize how much he liked and needed what had happened until it happened.

“How very eloquent,” Bull teased, dropping onto the bed and taking more than his fair share. Dorian’s bed was smaller than Bull’s, so they had to squish together much more. Truthfully, Dorian liked his bed better for that _exact_ reason.

“I thought you were going to be my human blanket.” Dorian changed the subject, knowing roughly ten people were eavesdropping and knew _precisely_ what the lovers said to each other. He couldn’t bring himself to care, because all he wanted was his lover.

“No, you’re going to be mine,” Bull decided, pulling Dorian flush against his body. Dorian ignored the little shiver of hearing Bull claim him. “Yes, I think you’ll do.”

“Gonna buy me?” Dorian badgered.

“Don’t need to; I own you already.”

Dorian couldn’t find fault with that logic. He, rightfully so, gave up on conversation and consciousness. He was getting the best sleep of his life when he slept with Bull. And he didn’t ever want to stop.


	13. Out of the Fade...

_“Greetings, Dorian... It is Dorian, isn't it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father.”_

The words echoed through Dorian’s mind on repeat. A month later, they had successfully figured out what was going on with the Grey Wardens, saved their order, fell headfirst _into_ the Fade, fought off a Nightmare demon (and lost a good man in the process), and made it out alive. The experience was disorienting enough that the Inquisition spared a few carriages to get Ellana and her inner circle back to Skyhold with all due haste. It might have been the Commander freaking out over just _hearing_ of Ellana disappearing into the Fade, but it didn’t much matter why (Dorian was mostly grateful that he wouldn’t have to sleep in a tent after that harrowing experience). Dorian was packed into a carriage with Ellana and Varric and Hawke before he could really come to grips with what had happened. Hawke was in a bad spot. Warden Stroud had been a personal friend and he had to witness the man’s death. Dorian didn’t even want to empathize with the man. He had enough of his own personal demons to contend with to add someone else’s to his load.

Varric spoke quietly with the Champion of Kirkwall while Ellana curled up in a ball, leaning against Dorian. Dorian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her tightly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for both of them. The carriage only stopped briefly for them to empty their bladders and switch horses. Dorian caught glances of Bull here and there, but it wasn’t enough. Still, the Qunari was large enough that he couldn’t fit with more than one other person in a carriage with him. And Cole insisted on travelling with him, leaving no space for Dorian to make sure his lover was all right. Because he _needed_ to know. But, Ellana needed him, too.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, softly, glancing down at her hand.

“Pretty much always,” she confessed. He guessed as much.

“Would you like me to…?” Dorian wasn’t even sure if magic could help keep the pain away.

“It doesn’t work,” she told him.

“Ell…” Dorian sighed and kissed her hair. “You should’ve told me.”

“I’m telling you now.”

“Are you all right?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She nodded, clenching her hand into a fist and tucking it under her arm. “I’m probably going to have nightmares about this, but I’m okay. Are you?”

“I’ve experienced the Fade many times.” Dorian brushed her question off. “I’m a mage.”

“Never _physically_ though.”

Dorian should have known better than to try to pull one over on her.

“I expect sleep won’t be a comfort for a little while for all of us,” Dorian admitted, “that’s what demons do: ruin sleep for everyone.”

“_Are_ you okay?” Ellana tilted her head as she looked him over. She could read him almost better than Bull could. Her eyes narrowed at him. “It’s not the demon, is it?”

“The demon was horrible,” Dorian deflected.

“Dor…” She turned to face him fully. “It’s Bull, isn’t it?”

Dorian couldn’t lie to her, even if he wanted to. She knew him too well.

“I…” He swallowed past the lump in his throat and tried to ignore the burning sensation in his nose. He shook his head, violently. “It’s just casual between us.” He sat up straight and nodded, decisively. “I just needed a reminder. I’m fine.”

“It’s not casual,” Ellana argued. Dorian blinked at her. “Oh, _come on_, Dor. You _really_ think you two are just fuck-buddies?”

“Is this really the best place for this conversation?” Dorian asked through gritted teeth.

“By all means, continue.” Ellana and Dorian looked over at Varric and Hawke, who looked more amused than anything else.

“If anyone were to see you two and not know you, they’d think you were together,” Hawke pointed out. Dorian realized that Ellana was practically on his lap.

“So what?” Ellana shrugged. “We all know Dorian and Bull are together.”

“And you and Cullen,” Dorian added, delighting in the pink color that flushed across her face.

“Varric, do you think what Bull and Dorian have is a casual fling?” Ellana asked. Dorian spluttered and poked her in the side. She squeaked, but otherwise ignored him.

“Sparkler and Tiny?” Varric laughed. “That’s a romance for the ages if I ever saw one.”

“I’ve only met you in passing–” Hawke directed his words to Dorian directly, “–and I can tell you that he adores you. That’s no casual fling.”

Dorian flushed deeply. He didn’t know what to say. Yeah, he’d been admiring Bull forever (it was getting close to ten months, now) and they’d actually become _friends_ of all things, and lovers, too, but _more?_ Dorian felt like he was just asking for too much. They couldn’t be together long-term. It just wasn’t feasible. And when he went back home… The rumors alone would be problematic _at best_, never mind the _reality_. They couldn’t be together, not if Dorian wanted to go home.

Those facts shattered Dorian’s heart into sharp shards that stabbed him.

“Don’t go there, Dor.” Ellana turned back to him, grabbing his chin to make him look at her. “We don’t even know that we’ll survive Corypheus. Don’t borrow trouble; we have enough.” How she knew where his thoughts went, Dorian didn’t know. He didn’t know if he’d _ever_ know how she knew him so well, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. She was his best friend.

“We definitely are in plenty of trouble,” Dorian agreed, trying to lighten the mood and get the attention _off him_, “what will our dear Commander do when he finds out that you haven’t eaten since before the fight?”

“You haven’t _eaten_?!” Hawke stared while Varric started digging around in his pack.

“Traitor,” Ellana muttered to Dorian, “this conversation isn’t over.”

“Eat!” Varric somehow had an entire loaf of bread and a large hunk of halla jerky in his pack. Dorian didn’t ask.

Sure enough, Cullen’s first act was to throw the carriage door open and drag Ellana into a powerful hug. He buried his face in her hair and shut his eyes, breathing deeply. Honestly, it was so cute that it almost made Dorian vomit. He ignored the shards of his heart reminding him that he’d never get that. It just wasn’t in the cards for him. It wasn’t fair, but life usually wasn’t.

Dorian looked for Bull, but the Chargers swarmed him, stealing his attention. Krem looked around and spotted Dorian. He waved Dorian forward, but Dorian just shook his head. It was a Chargers reunion. Besides, he needed to go do some research. He needed to know what happened, make sure it never happened to him again, and keep his mind off the uncomfortable realizations that carriage ride had given him.

“Are you all right?” Krem had escaped the Chargers to walk up to Dorian. “Can’t imagine what you went through.”

“I’m fine.” Dorian smiled, tightly. “I’m a mage. I’ve been through the Harrowing and spent plenty of time in the Fade. The others are worse off.”

Krem had half-turned to go back to Bull and the Chargers when he heard Dorian was all right, but froze, mid-move. He refocused on Dorian, firmly settling facing him.

“Why didn’t you ride with the Chief?” Krem asked.

“Cole wanted to.” Dorian shrugged. “He must’ve heard something that made him feel like he needed to be with Bull.”

“So, why didn’t the three of you ride together?” Krem asked, like it was obvious.

“Have you _seen_ Bull? He’s massive. There wasn’t room.” Dorian shook his head. “And Ellana needed me.”

“So, you two haven’t spoken?” Krem frowned and glanced back at the Chargers, who were trying to herd Bull back to the tavern.

“What would we have to speak about?” Dorian inquired, feigning ignorance. Krem swore loudly, in Tevene. Dorian blinked at him. He’d never heard the mercenary swear for no reason before.

“Chief didn’t talk to you _at all_?!”

“About what?” Dorian asked.

Krem’s only answer was another curse in Tevene.

“Are you going to be in the library?” Krem asked.

“Non sequitur,” Dorian muttered, “yes, I’ve got research to do.”

“You haven’t slept in like three days and you’re going to do research?” Krem rolled his eyes. “Why am I _not_ surprised? Look, I’ve gotta talk to the Chief. He’ll be by to see you later.”

“He doesn’t have to…” Dorian trailed off at the glower.

“He _will_ talk to you,” Krem declared, “Look, go do your research or whatever. We’ll catch up. I’ve got a moron to yell at.”

Krem turned on his heel and stormed off, after the Chargers. Dorian had _no_ idea what was going on, but followed Krem’s instructions anyway. He couldn’t sleep, no matter how long it had been since he’d slept last (thanks, Nightmare demon). So, he did the next best thing: he buried himself in books. Not literally, since he hadn’t done that since he was prepubescent (no matter how stupid the books were), though part of him wanted to do something as silly and illogical and childish. Maybe it would make him feel better. He considered the _Malefica Imperio_ before him. If there was _anything_ that deserved to be the seat of a book throne, just so it could _only_ encounter butts all day, it would be _that_ book.

He looked out his window at the tavern. It was like nothing had happened. No one was running around, nothing was on fire… The world hadn’t suddenly collapsed or imploded just based on a few people wandering through the Fade. Frankly, it shouldn’t have been surprising, given that Corypheus and his like had done it centuries prior, but still, it felt like an earth-shattering discovery and here was the world… not shattered.

Dorian stretched out a little bit, looking at the training yard. Bull was there with Cassandra. It wasn’t an unusual sight (not that Dorian had been blatantly ogling his lover from his window every time he trained for weeks prior to them even becoming lovers), but it was a little off. Bull was standing like he was preparing to be tackled to the ground. And he had no weapon. Why didn’t he have a weapon? Cassandra twisted forward and hit Bull in the gut with the stick. Dorian felt his jaw drop. What the fuck was going on?! But Bull said something and Cassandra hit him again. Whatever it was, Bull was instigating it. Ellana walked up and Bull must’ve said something, because Cassandra reared back and slammed the stick into Bull, knocking him over. She passed the stick to Ellana and walked off. Apparently, Bull was being a bit bitchy, because he got to his feet and Ellana started hitting him with the stick. Dorian shut his eyes and shook his head. He couldn’t watch whatever weird thing his lover was doing. Watching him fight was one thing, watching him get beat up was something else entirely. He went back to his books, trying to lose himself the way Bull seemed to be able to.

A couple hours later, Dorian felt a heavy gaze on him as the little hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He didn’t have to look to know Bull was quietly climbing the stairs behind him. The other mages in the library silenced at his approach. The Qunari wasn’t a common sight for them. Dorian sighed. They wouldn’t get a private conversation here. He glanced over at Fiona, to see her inching her way out of the room, pulling one of the Tranquil with her. Ah, so Bull was now intimidating people. Well, at least their conversation would be reasonably private. (When his nook was directly below where Leliana worked, he assumed _nothing_ was private there.)

“There’s remarkably little here on early Tevinter history,” Dorian started babbling, mostly out of nerves. He wanted to make sure Bull was okay, yes, but he also was _not_ prepared for this conversation. He needed more time. “All these ‘gifts’ to the Inquisition, and the best they can do is the _Malefica Imperio_? Trite propaganda. But if you want twenty volumes on whether Divine Galatea took a shit on Sunday, this is evidently the place to find it.”

“Dorian…” Bull’s voice was soft and tender and Dorian hated how it turned his insides to jelly.

“Did I see something by Genitivi here?” Dorian deliberately ignored Bull. “I could have sworn…”

“Dorian.” Bull was close, too close. Dorian could feel the heat emanating from his chest. It wasn’t fair, really, for Dorian to be so close to falling apart completely and Bull was so calm. But that was Bull, wasn’t it? Nothing bothered him. Dorian almost envied that ability.

“When we fell into the chasm, into the Fade…” Somehow, like always, Bull got Dorian talking. He hadn’t even _done_ anything and Dorian was just opening up, like an idiot. He shut his eyes against the emotions, trying desperately to stay calm and _not _cry like a baby. “I thought you were done for. I don’t know if I can forgive you for that moment.”

This was deep. Way deeper than they had agreed to be. Dorian braced himself for the inevitable. Bull was starting to learn how Dorian was incapable of keeping sex and emotion separate and he’d end things and then Dorian would be alone again. Maybe it was better this way. Dorian wouldn’t have to deal with the agony of losing someone he cared for. The Fade convinced him, for a second, that he had lost Bull. Dorian couldn’t survive that pain a second time.

“Dorian…”

“I thought I’d lost you.” Dorian couldn’t seem to stop his mouth. He turned to Bull, feeling the slight tinges of the anger and frustration he’d been holding inside. He didn’t manage to keep it from his voice. “You sent me ahead and then didn’t follow. For just a moment, I was certain you wouldn’t.”

Ellana had been the one to order them to leave the Fade. But Bull… _Bull_ had shoved Dorian forward, telling him to get out first. Bull had been the last, aside from Ellana and Hawke, to exit the Fade. And it hurt Dorian more than he could say, because in that moment, when he didn’t think Bull would follow him, he thought his heart had been ripped from his chest.

“I thought: ‘This is it. This is where I finally lose him forever’.” Dorian kept his tears back, but just barely. He focused on Bull, who somehow looked… _sad?_ His brain couldn’t comprehend that, so it shut down for a moment. Bull experienced emotions, Dorian knew he did, but even with all the Qunari mess that happened, Bull hadn’t been _sad_ before. Frustrated, lost, upset, and confused, yes, but not _sad_.

“Are you… all right?” Frustration and anger fled as concern took over. It had been bothering him since he was packed in a carriage away from Bull, but it was starting to become overbearing, just looking at his lover.

“No, I’m not,” Bull confessed, so softly it was almost inaudible. Dorian froze at the admission.

“Well, come on then.” Dorian grabbed Bull’s hand and started walking to his room. Mainly because it was closer but also because there was an easy way to get from the library to Dorian’s room without running across any nosy members of the Inquisition, which Dorian used to his advantage time and time again. Bull followed along sedately, and that bothered Dorian to no end. That wasn’t _the Iron Bull_. The Nightmare demon must’ve _really_ fucked him up. Once they were safely behind the door, Dorian considered his room. The bed was probably his best bet. He shoved Bull into sitting on the edge of the bed and grabbed his chair to sit across from him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dorian asked. It wasn’t really a question. Dorian was going to get an answer from his lover whether he wanted to or not.

“No.” Bull shook his head.

“Are you_ going_ to talk about it?”

“Qunari don’t talk.” Bull sighed. He still wasn’t looking Dorian in the eye. “I’ve… I did a training exercise. Probably do it again tomorrow. It… helps.”

“Training?” Dorian blinked. “That’s what you call Cassandra beating you with a stick?”

“Yeah.” Bull waved that away. “The Nightmare demon was… big.”

“Quite the understatement.”

“But that’s not my problem.” Bull shook his head again. “That training exercise helps with control. It’s been helping me with the whole Fade… demon… _crap_.”

“What’s your problem then?” Dorian asked.

“You outlined it pretty well just a minute ago.” Bull _finally_ met Dorian’s gaze. Dorian’s stomach dropped to his feet.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I thought I’d lost you, kadan.” Bull’s hands clenched into fists, like he wanted to touch Dorian, but couldn’t bring himself to. Dorian shook his head, chuckling dryly.

“How did it come to this?” He asked. “I thought we were supposed to keep things casual.”

“I don’t know that we ever _could_,” Bull laughed, quietly, “you’ve been attracted to me since we met and I’ve been attracted to you just as long.”

“Not since we _met_!” Dorian disagreed, “I’m not _easy_.”

“It took me _seven months_ to get into your pants, kadan,” Bull reminded him, “I _know_.”

“Why was Krem so mad at you earlier?” Dorian asked, mind flitting around with his nerves, “He seemed upset that we hadn’t talked.”

“We talked about how you and I weren’t being casual anymore and he helped me put things into perspective.”

“Meaning?”

“He hit me until I admitted how I felt and then demanded that I go tell you.” Bull shrugged, pulling a laugh from Dorian.

“Speaking of that, what have you been calling me?” He asked.

“Kadan.”

“And ‘kadan’ means…?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“What?” Dorian frowned at Bull. “You don’t get to give me a pet name and _not_ tell me what it means.”

“Watch me.” Bull grinned.

“Argh!” Dorian threw his hands up in frustration. “You _would_ throw some Qunlat at me and _not_ tell me what it means and know that there’s _no one else_ who could help me figure it out or corroborate what you’ve said even makes any sense, you _infuriating_ man!”

“Dorian.” Bull stole Dorian’s focus instantly. “It means ‘my heart’.”


	14. ...Into the Winter Palace

Dorian felt like melting into a puddle of mush at Bull’s words. He knew it wasn’t a joke. Bull wouldn’t joke about this. And the way he was staring at Dorian told him how serious he was. Dorian lost his voice completely. He wouldn’t have known what to say even if he could find it.

“I know we were supposed to be casual,” Bull continued, slowly, “but it’s been almost three months and after what happened… I don’t want to die without you knowing someone cares for you.”

“You’re not going to die.”

Dorian wanted to slap himself. He said it before he could use his brain.

“No, I’m not,” Bull agreed, smiling lightly, “but it was a very real possibility just yesterday.”

Dorian tried to come up with _some_ sort of response that would be appropriate and came up blank.

“You _impossible_ lummox!” He blurted out. “You’ve been acting totally indifferent towards me! And you’ve been avoiding being near me around Skyhold!”

“We agreed on casual.” Bull shrugged. “I was trying to stay casual. I’m a former Ben-Hassrath, kadan. I can fake indifference. And, you wanted us to be private. I was trying to do what you wanted.”

Dorian would never admit it on pain of a torturous death that he was falling a bit in love with Bull every time he said “kadan”. He had a feeling if Bull knew, he’d _totally_ abuse that knowledge. And, the worst part was, Dorian wasn’t sure Bull would be entirely wrong in that.

“You’re telling me that you’ve been trying to do what you thought I wanted?” Dorian shook his head, trying to make sense of the situation. Bull had _never_ looked like anything Dorian said could hurt him. Frankly, this was one of the rare times Dorian had seen Bull anything close to vulnerable.

“You _told_ me you wanted this to be private,” Bull pointed out.

“You _told everyone_ already!” Dorian argued, “How were we supposed to be _private_ after that?!”

“Admittedly, not my finest moment,” Bull agreed, “but, you’re so beautiful, I just wanted to brag for a moment.”

Dorian did _not_ feel his heart skip a beat. (He completely _did_.)

“I don’t get nervous, kadan,” Bull continued, “Anxiety isn’t part of the Qun. But… I don’t _want_ you to say ‘no’. Ever. Every time I’ve come to you instead of you coming to me, I actually felt _nervous_. I don’t like it.”

Dorian might’ve fallen a bit more in love with that declaration.

“We agreed on communicating openly and clearly,” Bull added, “so, this is it: I care about you, kadan. There’s no one else who could be my heart but you.”

“You _do_ realize that we’re already together, don’t you?” Dorian pointed out, “There’s no need to woo me any harder.”

Bull chuckled and shook his head.

“I care about you, too, you insufferable idiot,” Dorian huffed out, “I don’t get teary-eyed and choked up for just anyone, you know. But, I think for my own sanity, we should re-negotiate our rules.”

Bull laughed.

“But not like this.” Dorian got up and pushed Bull back onto his bed and then clambered onto the remaining space to snuggle up to his Qunari. Bull let out a sigh of pure contentment. Dorian didn’t even realize how much Bull had been holding back in the effort to stay casual and neutral. He couldn’t let Bull go back to that. It would hurt both of them. And, Dorian was not a fan of pain, as Bull well knew. “Like this.”

“I assume you want me to stop being stand-offish.” Bull’s arm wrapped around Dorian’s shoulders, comfortably. Dorian hummed in agreement. “And to stop pretending like this is casual.”

“I would like it if we didn’t sneak around anymore,” Dorian added, “Everyone knows already. What happens behind closed doors need not be told to anyone, but…” His brain caught up to what he was saying. He was _actively _courting disaster with Bull. There were already rumors in Tevinter. If he were suddenly to engage in a legitimate _relationship_ with a _Qunari_, he’d be throwing away his entire future.

He recalled the discomfort of having Bull stay away from him. Of Bull sitting on the opposite side of the table during Wicked Grace or when the Chargers were drinking together. He didn’t much care for that. Everyone knew already. Fuck what his countrymen thought. As long as he never acknowledged the rumors, people would just chalk it up to him being eccentric. Honestly, they already thought of him that way.

“I don’t want to treat this like a dirty secret,” Dorian continued, “it’s not fair to either of us and it’s disrespectful to how we feel about each other.”

“Agreed.” Bull’s voice made his chest vibrate under Dorian’s ear. “But, I reserve the right to fuck you in places other than our bedrooms.”

Dorian forgot what the conversation was about for a moment while he pictured a variety of locations that would worked perfectly for what Bull was thinking.

“Fine.”

Dorian shut his eyes and breathed in the deep, musky scent of his lover. He was ridiculously comfortable in this position and he felt… _safe_. He felt like he could sleep, even with the memories of the Nightmare demon lurking in the back of his mind.

“Hey, kadan?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you think of the war table?”

Dorian did not succeed in talking Bull out of fucking on the war table (though, to be perfectly fair, he didn’t try all that hard). The excitement inherent in being so easily caught by any number of people proved to be too much a lure for either of them. Bull liked Dorian’s reactions in that room so much that he found a way to get them alone at the war table every single day for nearly a fortnight. Dorian couldn’t find the energy to _walk_, much less complain about Bull’s machinations. If the former spy wanted to use his powers to fuck, who was Dorian to deny him?

Then, they had to attend the festivities at the Winter Palace.

Josephine held several etiquette lessons for the entire inner circle to help them navigate Orlesian manners without getting into the finer details of The Game. Vivienne and Leliana helped. Dorian was the only non-Orlesian member of the inner circle to _not_ need any assistance in managing his manners. Bull, too, did pretty well. Sera was so bad at it that Ellana seriously considered leaving her at Skyhold. But they weren’t sure what they were in for, so everyone was on deck for the event.

Then Josephine pulled out their uniforms for the ball. They were gaudy, brightly colored, and Dorian loathed them entirely. Josephine and Vivienne had worked tirelessly to find a uniform that would work on every unique member of the inner circle, though, and Dorian valued his life so he didn’t dare to even _think_ his criticisms too loudly. Still, they were tailored appropriately, and it was _totally_ worth it to see Bull fully dressed (for once). It helped solidify the opinion in Dorian’s mind that his Qunari need _never_ wear a shirt for _any_ reason.

Entering the Winter Palace had been an event in and of itself. The whispers from the other nobility told the story that people were still struggling to take the Inquisition seriously and that Ellana (for all the good she did in the world) was _not_ what Orlais wanted from an Inquisitor. She was an elf, after all, and _Dalish_. (Dorian couldn’t figure out which was more offensive to their delicate sensibilities.) Bull was avoided for being Qunari, though Dorian was certain curiosity would get the better of them by the end of the night. Dorian was similarly ignored, though not to the same extent. Honestly, only the humans were accepted at face value (and that was mostly because they were pretty humans, which Dorian took a bit of offense to, since he was _obviously_ the prettiest of the humans in the Inquisition), which felt so very much like home that Dorian wondered if he’d accidentally wandered into a Tevinter ball instead of an Orlesian one.

Still, once the wine started flowing, it didn’t take took terribly long for people to feel more comfortable around him and start trying to talk to him. Some of them wanted good gossip on the Inquisition and Ellana herself, some of them wanted to know more about Tevinter, and some of them were trying to eke out his pedigree (likely to see if he was worthy of a marriage). Luckily, the latter wasn’t as common, so Dorian didn’t have to deal with it much. Cullen, on the other hand, was being swarmed. But, it was so funny to watch him flush, so Dorian refrained from helping Cullen escape his predicament.

But then, Bull started getting attention. And not in the _“my, how exotic, an actual Qunari!”_ way and more of the _“do you think he’s proportional _**_everywhere_**_?”_ way. And Dorian _hated_ it. He and Bull had already agreed to keep their relationship under wraps during the ball, just to avoid harming the Inquisition’s reputation. (Ellana had pulled them both aside and threatened to stab them should they even _think_ that she cared about the Inquisition’s reputation over their relationship, but Cullen had managed to calm her down. Mostly.) Dorian knew Bull could hear every word, as his hearing was better than a human’s, though not as good as an elf’s. And still, Bull stood there, looking like a particularly imposing bodyguard for Ellana, blatantly ignoring the whispers.

Dorian, due to his ability to blend in and be polite, was left in the main hall while Ellana went hunting for clues with Sera, Cole, and Varric, since the rogues were sneakier than everyone else and could get into secured areas without being spotted. Plus, Sera and Cole had both gotten dangerously close to upsetting a couple nobles, so Ellana needed to get them out of the situation. Still, Bull’s presence was met with unsavory comments and sleazy looks. For how prudish they were with Ellana for being Dalish, they were pretty sexually interested in Bull for being Qunari.

Dorian loathed every second.

“You _could_ shut them down, you know,” Dorian hissed, moving to stand beside Bull.

“And miss watching you get all jealous?” Bull chuckled under his breath in the way that Dorian knew from experience was purely erotic pleasure, rather than just straight amusement. “Not a chance, kadan.”

Dorian knew that he should berate Bull for using the nickname where there were people quite _obviously_ eavesdropping, but… He couldn’t shut down Bull for that. Firstly, Dorian genuinely didn’t want Bull to stop, but, more importantly, Dorian didn’t want to start the precedent that the nickname wasn’t sacred. It was a word that Bull never said _ever_, except to Dorian, and Dorian understood fully how precious that was. If he even complained about “kadan” _once_, it was once too many. He _never_ wanted Bull to think he didn’t adore and appreciate it.

“Behave yourself,” Dorian muttered and went to go rescue Cullen from a couple of particularly ardent admirers. Flirting and teasing was all in good fun, but inappropriate touching was crossing the line.

Ellana returned in time to dance with Duchess Florianne, who apparently had been waiting anxiously (if her ability to jump on the Inquisitor at the most inopportune time was any indication). Ellana danced with her, and utterly amazed the crowd, instantly making them reassess their initial reactions to her (either that or they just decided to ignore her Dalish heritage). Dorian didn’t know what was being said, but her reputation went up every moment she was on the dance floor. When the dance was over, Ellana carefully made her way (avoiding every other possible dance partner) over to her advisors. Dorian assumed he’d find out what was going on when she needed him.

Still, it felt a little odd when she took Blackwall, Solas, and Cole instead. Dorian was used to being part of her adventures. He knew he’d learn the story from her as soon as they got back to Skyhold, but that was different from being a literal _part_ of the journey. So, he had to wait, still hearing the vexing gossip about his lover. It took all his strength not to do something drastic just to get them to _shut up_! Bull didn’t even seem to notice. (Dorian knew better because his Qunari noticed _everything_.) It was aggravating watching him have no reaction whatsoever. Luckily (for his admirers and Dorian’s sanity), everyone was still too afraid of him to try groping him. Or even asking him to dance.

Dorian couldn’t bring himself to watch any longer, so he escaped to the gardens. Unfortunately, the whispers followed him there. It felt so close to home that he thought his mother would materialize out of the crowd any moment. Still, the hushed conversations around him weren’t about Bull and wondering about his sexual preferences and were instead about Tevinter and the rumors of their society. Frankly, Dorian was quite entertained by hearing the silly, ignorant things Orlesians made up about his home country. So, he lingered there while he was able to, trying to forget about all the ugly and disturbing things strangers wanted to do to his lover.

It was only an hour later when Ellana had uncovered the assassination plot, killed Duchess Florianne, reconciled a pair of lovers, and gotten a man executed. Dorian was one of the first lining up to make sure she was left well-enough alone. Cullen went to check on her and Dorian peeked on them. After a few quiet words, Cullen pulled Ellana into a dance. It was sickeningly sweet. He hated every moment watching. (That was such a lie.)

“Pay up, Buttercup,” Varric muttered. Dorian glanced over his shoulder to see the rest of the inner circle watching the lovers dance. Sera stuck her tongue out at Varric as she passed him a couple sovereigns.

“All right, let’s leave the lovebirds alone,” Vivienne decided, shooing them away from the balcony doors. Dorian thought about arguing with her, but a large hand touched the small of his back and led him away. The missing finger joints betrayed the owner as his Qunari, so Dorian didn’t worry too terribly much.

“She’s fine, kadan,” Bull murmured, taking him to a nearby, different balcony, “How’re _you_ doin’?”

“It’s…” Dorian took a deep breath and leaned on the balcony, not actually seeing the view for all its supposed splendor. “It’s been a long day.”

“You’ve had your panties all bunched up since we set foot inside the palace,” Bull noted, leaning against the balcony right next to him. His warmth permeated the space. “Was it the rumors?”

“You know very well that it was.” Dorian sniffed, haughtily. “But it doesn’t matter, because we’re trying _not_ to scandalize the Orlesian nobility. What would they think seeing a barbaric Qunari and an evil magister together? They might actually forget their silly Game for a split second.”

“Ya know, ‘Vints play the Game, too,” Bull pointed out.

“Yes, and I haven’t missed it at all,” Dorian said. He sighed and shut his eyes. It didn’t matter. It _didn’t_. Because Bull was _his_ now, damn it all, and he was Bull’s _kadan_, for Andraste’s sake! Nobody could ever take that away. No pretty woman or attractive man or _whatever_ could take that away.

“Come on.” Bull pulled Dorian away from the balcony in a firm, but gentle manner. “The music’s finally got enough of a beat to dance to.”

“What are you doing?” Dorian asked, even as Bull positioned their hands in the appropriate places.

“Dancing.” Bull shrugged and started leading. Dorian wasn’t used to following, but he kept up (his tutelage had been thorough enough that he could fake any dance he didn’t know with relative ease). Slowly, he relaxed into the familiar motions. Bull leaned his head down a bit to murmur into Dorian’s hair. “I like that you got jealous, kadan.”

“I’m not _jealous_,” Dorian argued. Bull chuckled.

“You looked like you were going to set people on fire.”

“Well, if they didn’t dress so horrendously…”

“You’re adorable.”

“I mostly certainly am _not!_”

“There’s nobody else I want.” Dorian shut up at the somber tone in Bull’s voice. He tilted his head back to meet his Qunari’s gaze. “We agreed to be open. You’re my kadan. No sparkly dress or fancy mask can change that.”

“They were talking about you like you were a piece of meat!”

“Let ‘em.” Bull shrugged again. “The only opinions I care about are yours, my Chargers’, and Ellana’s. In that order. Nobody else matters and nothing else can get in the way.”

“I don’t _want_ anyone else to look at you like you’re… _less_.” Dorian wasn’t explaining himself quite right, but Bull understood. (Somehow, Dorian just _knew_ that he understood.) Dorian was trapped by his pounding heart, Bull’s warm hands, and that fierce gaze.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that, kadan.” Bull kept them dancing, which was starting to take an inordinate amount of brainpower to actually accomplish (and Dorian wasn’t even _leading_). “This is a part of my life that I’ve had a long time to get used to. It’ll take some time for you, too.”

“I hate that this has become _normal_ for you.” Dorian shook his head. “That’s not right.”

“No, but I have enough to deal with without trying to alter people’s perceptions of me.” Bull shrugged yet again. Dorian was starting to get irritated with the blasé attitude. “I’m much more interested in your perceptions. How exactly is jealousy going to affect you?”

“I’m fine.” If Bull was cracking jokes, then he was fine, too. Dorian rolled his eyes and thought about stopping their dance. But, he liked dancing and dancing with his Qunari was warm and comfortable.

“I think you’re hot while you’re jealous,” Bull continued, like Dorian hadn’t spoken, “I can just imagine how responsive you’d be to every little thing I’d do. Fuck, it’d be so hot, kadan.”

Dorian knew that Bull deflected with sex whenever he was done discussing a subject, but he was more irritated that it actually _worked_ (even while Dorian _knew_ he was being manipulated) on an absurdly frequent basis.

“I thought I was _always_ hot.”

“You _are_. But you jealous is like a magic trick to get you to power bottom.”

“We’re not fucking in the Winter Palace, amatus,” Dorian chuckled, shaking his head. Bull completely stopped in the midst of dancing. Dorian blinked up at him, confused. Why had he stopped so abruptly? Nothing had even happened. That reaction wasn’t appropriate for what Dorian had said.

“Amatus?” Bull asked, softly.

Oh. That.

Dorian couldn’t take it back even if he wanted to (which he most assuredly _didn’t_).

“Amatus,” Dorian agreed. He stood up on his toes to steal a quick kiss. Well, it was _meant_ to be a quick kiss, but Bull took advantage of that and wrapped his arms around Dorian’s middle, hauling him up and into a massive bear hug.

“Thanks, kadan.”

“Why are you thanking me?” Dorian asked, “It’s not uncalled for, what with you knowing me better than anyone else alive. I care for you very much, you intolerable man. I can call you ‘amatus’ if I want.”

“Kadan.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Only for you, amatus.”


	15. In the Library?!

The journey from Halamshiral back to Skyhold was quick and painless. Well, _mostly_ painless. Bull was intent on being as obnoxious as possible, meaning he was stealing touches and kisses every moment he was able to (considering he was a former _spy_, it was quite a lot). Dorian refused to admit that he enjoyed every second of it, instead pretending like it bothered him.

Given the blatant lack of reactions from the other members of the Inquisition and the fact that Bull _kept doing it_, Dorian assumed that he wasn’t doing a very good job.

They got back to Skyhold and Ellana decided to take time off. Meaning she ordered every member of the inner circle to relax for a couple of days while they all recuperated from the drama and intrigue of Orlesian politics. Josephine and Leliana were the only ones who completely ignored that order (probably because they _liked_ the Game and it was a little disturbing how _good_ they were at it). Cullen took the order quite seriously as he hauled Ellana over his shoulder and disappeared with her into her rooms. Granted, the only witnesses to said event were Josephine, Leliana, Dorian, Bull, and Varric, but that was beside the point. When Cullen decided to be aggressive, it was pretty hot. Unfortunately for Ellana, he was usually tucked behind his wall of polite manners.

It took Bull approximately two hours before he abandoned the Chargers and Herald’s Rest to come find Dorian.

“You didn’t tell me that ‘amatus’ is a big deal.” Bull just leapt straight into conversation. Dorian wasn’t expecting him, so he jumped in surprise at Bull’s words.

“What?” Dorian tried to focus on Bull and what he had said, rather than the words on the page in front of him.

“I talked to Krem,” Bull added, a bit unhelpfully, since Dorian still wasn’t quite aware of what they were discussing. Bull took his arm and drew him into the nook between the bookshelves that had become Dorian’s home away from home. Dorian’s brain finally caught up with everything that had been said. He flushed as Bull blocked his only exit (unless he wanted to use the window), crossing his arms and looking stern. Frankly, it wasn’t all that fair, considering _he_ had started with the pet names and Qunari didn’t just _do_ pet names, so “kadan” was special and important.

“You call me ‘kadan’,” Dorian pointed out.

“You said ‘amatus’ and I thought it was what it sounds like. I’ve heard it in passing before, but just assumed it was a term of endearment.”

“It _is_ a term of endearment.”

“One reserved for _marriage_.”

“Unmarried couples use it all the time.” Dorian was just turning redder and redder with every word. Curse Krem and the fact that he was Tevinter.

“Kadan.” Bull’s tone was no-nonsense.

“It’s a term of endearment, used exclusively by couples who intend to stay together for the rest of their lives.” Dorian sighed, looking down at Bull’s feet. He couldn’t meet his Qunari’s gaze. “I was under the impression that ‘kadan’ has similar connotations.”

“‘Kadan’ is the only term of endearment Qunari _have_,” Bull explained, softly, “if I had a best friend who I trusted more than anyone else in the world, they’d be kadan. The Hero of Ferelden was kadan to one of our sten, who returned to the Arishok and got her kadan status for all Qunari.”

“The Hero of Ferelden is dead.”

“She’s still kadan. It can’t be taken back by anything.” Bull shook his head. “You ‘Vints have other terms of endearment for lovers and the like.”

“We do,” Dorian acknowledged, “but you don’t have another kadan.”

Bull shut up for a moment.

“We could die any day, kadan,” He said, softly, “if we don’t…”

“I am too much a pariah in my own country, much less in the rest of Thedas, to _ever_ have another relationship.” Dorian swallowed, tightly. No matter what happened to him or to Bull or to their relationship, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d _never_ have this again. He was just too much, too _needy_, for anyone else to handle. He was pretty certain that once Corypheus was defeated that he and Bull wouldn’t last anyway. He had to go back to Tevinter and Bull _could not_ go with him. They were just doomed. But Dorian had already committed to Bull. Even if they wouldn’t last, he’d keep Bull in the shattered remains of his heart until the end of his days.

“Besides, we could die any day, like you’ve so succinctly reminded me.” Dorian worked up the courage to look at Bull’s face. “Chances are one of us will die and then both terms of endearment will be accurate.”

Bull looked so _sad_ that it bothered Dorian. He wasn’t sure what to do or say to ease that worry line from between his brows.

“Why do you think you’ll never have another relationship?” Bull asked, voice tight.

“Bull, I’m… I know myself quite well.” Dorian sniffed, trying for haughty and ending up with pathetic. “I am quite needy and self-centered and, as you just learned, jealous. I am also gay, which might be normalized here in the south, but in Tevinter is just _not done_. It might be possible for me to find someone willing to take my worst qualities on, but in my experience, my neediness drives people away.”

“You’re not needy,” Bull disagreed, “I’ve met needy people and you’re not one of them.”

“I’m basically Dalish at this point,” Dorian argued, fighting back the tears. Of _course_, Bull wouldn’t understand. The one person who knew him intimately didn’t understand this. And this was _important_.

“And Dalish crave touch because it’s comforting to them.” Bull shrugged. “Touch is an integral part of survival. If Qunari want to torture prisoners, they starve them of touch first, before anything else. It isolates you and makes you sensitive. You don’t need touch just because you want it, you need touch because you’ve been touch-starved your whole life.”

“Look, this is why you’re my amatus.” Dorian sighed, not liking the direction of the discussion _or_ that Bull seemed to be winning it. “Because to _you_, my desire for touch is normal and expected. I’m not likely to find another person to agree with that assessment.”

“Kadan…”

“And, I don’t _want_ to,” Dorian continued before he could lose his nerve, “I don’t _want_ another amatus. I don’t _want_ to have to go and find someone else to put up with me. So, do me a favor, and _don’t_ let Corypheus kill you.”

Bull regarded Dorian for a long moment, trying to decide if the fight was worth it anymore. Evidently not, because he stepped forward, crowding Dorian against the window, and took his face into his massive hands. Dorian never felt more vulnerable than in that moment, and that included when he had to face his father back in Redcliffe. (Maker, was that only a few months prior? It felt like eternity.)

“You’re _not_ needy, kadan,” Bull said, decisively, as if that was the end of the argument and that would stop Dorian from believing it, “but, if you’re going to insist that you are, I’m going to have to do something about it.”

“Do?” Dorian blinked. “Do what?”

“I’m going to have to fuck you silly until you realize that _I’m_ the needy one here.”

Dorian totally missed the first part of what Bull said.

“_You_? Needy?”

“Why do you think I spent so long pretending to be casual? It gives me pleasure to give you pleasure and when I can’t do that, I start getting grumpy.”

“I don’t think you know _how_ to be grumpy.”

“Say ‘katoh’. See how grumpy I can get.”

They both knew that the only reason that word would leave Dorian’s mouth would be if Bull genuinely did something he didn’t like. And, considering all their honest conversations, it wasn’t particularly likely.

“I do _not_ believe you,” Dorian said, instead. Bull grinned.

“Well, guess I got something to prove to you, kadan.”

“You won’t be able to convince me, amatus.”

“We’ll see.”

And then, _then_ Bull leaned down and kissed Dorian. It was gentle and comforting and made Dorian melt. If Bull hadn’t been holding him upright, Dorian was pretty certain he’d have swooned like a maid with the vapors. As it was, Dorian knew that Bull _knew_ he was maddeningly good at kissing. His hands came up to grope blindly at the leather straps on his Qunari’s chest. Bull’s lips and tongue shut Dorian’s mind off completely.

“Know what I want to do, kadan?” Bull murmured against Dorian’s mouth. Dorian’s brain caught up _real_ quick.

“_No_, we’re _not_ going to–” Bull kissed Dorian, “–in the library!”

“No, _we’re_ not.” Bull kissed him again. Dorian relaxed just a bit. “_I_ am going to fuck _you_ in the library.”

“Bull!” Dorian’s yelp was muffled as Bull’s mouth covered his again.

“Do you _want_ us to get caught, kadan?” Bull’s voice was a gentle admonishment in Dorian’s ear. “‘Cause if you keep carrying on, people are _going_ to notice.”

“This is a _horrible_ decision,” Dorian mumbled, heat flooding him.

“Mm hmm,” Bull agreed, hands sliding down Dorian’s body. Dorian shivered in Bull’s grip.

“We really _shouldn’t_…” Dorian breathed, getting light-headed as blood rushed down.

“Mm hmm.” Bull tilted his head and started nibbling on Dorian’s neck. Dorian gasped and arched into Bull’s body.

“Someone will _see_…” Bull pulled back a bit to reassess Dorian’s flushed features for a long moment. Quickly, he spun Dorian around, making the man gasp again in surprise. Bull pressed Dorian’s chest into the wall and touched his lips to the sensitive spot behind Dorian’s ear. Dorian moaned deep in his chest, clamping his lips shut to try to keep the noise from escaping.

“Do I have to gag you, kadan?” Bull’s voice was deep and husky and it drew a whimper from Dorian’s throat. Luckily, Bull seemed to have anticipated that reaction, and his long fingers covered Dorian’s mouth before the sound could leak. Dorian felt Bull’s large body trap him against the wall, the hard muscle its own wall at his back. He tried to keep his breathing calm, but was rapidly losing that battle. It was one thing to do it on the war table, where there was a _door_ between them and anyone else. Also, Bull scouted the place to make sure there was no urgency to use the room. This was fucking _in the stacks_ of the library! There were no doors between them and anyone else. There were people _literally_ a few feet away, not to mention Leliana and all her spies one floor above them. Plus, the alcove was connected to an atrium. If sound would carry _anywhere_, it’d be there.

But, none of that seemed to matter to Dorian’s cock, as he was harder than he could ever remember being and felt like a desperate, wanton whore, begging for Bull’s touch.

“Shh…” Bull hushed him gently. Dorian realized he’d been whining softly. “Relax, kadan.” Dorian struggled for a moment, but was finally able to let his body relax against Bull’s. “Good boy.” The praise almost ruined Dorian all over again. Warm pleasure slid up his spine.

“Hurry up, amatus,” Dorian mumbled. He didn’t have the self-control to stay calm long.

Bull took his words to heart and started working on getting Dorian’s pants off. Or maybe just down. Dorian wasn’t exactly helping _or_ paying attention. His brain was hyper-focused on the sounds of the other mages rustling through books and shelves. What if someone needed a book from this area? Dorian could only imagine the sight they’d see. And he _could_ imagine it quite well, actually. And that was pretty much a problem for Dorian’s self-control, because the mental image was _too_ good.

Bull did _something_ because it wasn’t even a minute before Dorian felt the chill of the air on his bare ass. Bull didn’t _completely_ divest him of clothes, but with his pants around his thighs, Dorian wasn’t going anywhere fast. Dorian instinctively pushed his butt back against Bull, drawing a soft swear from his Qunari. Bull must’ve had some oil hidden on his person _somewhere_ because Dorian bit back a yelp of surprise from the cold liquid. Bull’s fingers quickly warmed it and started preparing him. Bull’s other hand covered Dorian’s mouth again (which felt a bit unfair, as Dorian was managing his sounds by himself just fine). When Bull’s fingers started probing and twisting and curling inside him, Dorian realized how intelligent that move was. (He never considered how _loud_ he could get with just _fingers_.)

“Shh, kadan. I’ve got you.” Bull’s words were supposed to be soothing, but the hitches in his breath told Dorian how affected he was by the situation. Dorian could hardly concentrate on the amazing stretch of his ass around Bull’s cock because he was too focused on the sounds of the library. Papers_ rustled_ and books _clunked_ shut and tomes _thudded_ onto the tables nearby and still Bull was pressing forward, filling him inch by precious inch. Dorian whimpered and shut his eyes. Unfortunately, that made listening to all the ambient noise around them all the easier.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Bull breathed, so quietly that even the proximity made it difficult to hear him. Dorian breathed hard against Bull’s fingers, trying to keep himself calm and still. “You’ve always been so tight. I thought that after a while you’d loosen up a bit, but you’re still like a fuckin’ cock ring on me.” Bull’s words melted all the self-control Dorian had (which wasn’t much). Dorian whined into Bull’s hand and pushed his hips backwards, trying to get his Qunari to _move already!_

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, kadan,” Bull continued, voice tight in response to Dorian’s movements. Bull’s hand grabbed Dorian’s hip, holding him still. “Gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight.” Dorian felt his breathing hitch at Bull’s words. (Bull rightfully interpreted said hitch as _“do it already!”_) Bull didn’t go straight to thrusting fast and hard, though. Instead, he went for a deep grinding motion. His hips at no point truly separated from Dorian’s as he ground his cock into Dorian’s ass. The pressure on Dorian’s prostate never went away and his own cock strained uncomfortably against the front of his pants. (They might’ve been pulled off his ass, but they were still buckled securely in front.)

And all the while, Bull just told Dorian all the dirty things he adored about his kadan.

“You take me so good. Just spread wide open and let me in. Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.” Bull transitioned pretty quickly into the situation at hand, which just made the teasing of fabric against Dorian’s cock straight agony. “So many people in here, kadan. Any one of them could walk by and see you, split in half by my thick, hard cock. Or maybe they’ll hear your first. You’ve got all these little, desperate noises that make me want to hold you down and make you scream instead. I betcha they can _hear_ you, right now. Somebody _must_ know I’m fucking you raw right now.”

Dorian, for his part, was trying _frantically_ to keep his noises down. He felt his heart stutter with every sound that happened nearby.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well. Bet this audience all wants to fuck you, too. If I saw you getting demolished against a wall, I’d be so hard, it’d hurt. Just thinkin’ about it makes me hard. I just _need_ to show everyone how beautiful and responsive you are to me. Every word I say makes you twitch and squirm for more. Do you want more, kadan?”

Dorian nodded, eyes tearing up a bit at the overwhelming sensation of Bull grinding slowly into his ass.

“Kadan, do you want more?” Bull’s let his fingers droop off Dorian’s chin.

“_Yes_, amatus,” Dorian murmured, breathing heavily.

Bull didn’t wait. His grinding, while pleasurable, was _not_ helping either one of them to true completion. He pulled himself nearly all the way out and then slammed in to the hilt. Dorian bit his lip even as Bull’s hand came back to muffle his sounds. Bull’s arm wrapped around Dorian’s hips, preventing him from being smashed into the wall. The slick sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in Dorian’s ears so loud that he _swore_ they’d get caught. (And he kind of wanted to…)

“You like this, don’t you, kadan?” Bull continued, like nothing had changed. Based on the fact that no one had come looking, Dorian guessed that their noises weren’t as loud as he thought. “You like the fact that I’m fucking you into a wall not five feet from a bunch of people. People who at any point could walk by and see that _you are mine_.”

Dorian panted into the palm of Bull’s hand, desperately trying to quell the sounds Bull was forcing from his chest.

“You want to be _owned_. And, you want the entire Inquisition to know who owns you.” Bull voice was starting to lose that strict control. “Because you belong to me. You’re not going anywhere, ‘cause I won’t let you. You’re gonna have to get used to that. I’m not letting you go. You’re mine, kadan.”

Dorian was going to cum any second. Bull’s words were too much on top of all the pleasure of being filled. His breathing was starting to stutter.

“Who do you belong to?” Bull asked, voice hard. His fingers shifted just a bit to let Dorian speak.

“You,” Dorian barely got the word out without screaming. Somehow, it came out croaked and hoarse.

“Fuck yeah, you do.” Bull seemed inordinately pleased, because his hips started jerking. Dorian turned his head to press his mouth into Bull’s wrist, gasping and moaning through the orgasm that slammed into him. Bull swore under his breath and ground his hips into Dorian’s, his thick cock pulsating as he finished. Dorian whimpered at the sensation, as he always did. Bull was big enough that the twitching and pulsing of his orgasm stimulated Dorian’s prostate.

Bull didn’t move for several long moments, breathing heavily into the back of Dorian’s neck. Dorian tried to catch his breath as the realization of what just happened dawned on him. He flushed a dark red and buried his face in Bull’s arm. Maybe if he hid, no one would know it was him behind Bull’s girth. Who was he kidding? Everyone knew this area was his space. They’d know _exactly_ who Bull was fucking.

“Fuck, kadan,” Bull breathed. He pulled back just enough to let Dorian off the wall. Not that Dorian had much energy to _stand_ anymore. He pressed his palms into the rock before him, trying to keep from swaying. He belatedly realized he should dress himself. Before he could work up the energy to move, Bull’s hands started doing it for him. Not that it was comfortable. What with his trousers covered in semen with even more leaking from his ass, Dorian was going to have to change if he wanted to be even _remotely_ comfortable.

“That was a bit of an understatement,” Dorian muttered, turning around once his clothes were secured in place. Bull still stood close to him. It took Dorian a moment to realize that he was protecting him from being seen by anyone else. Their recent sexual escapades said that Bull didn’t care who saw what, but Dorian was starting to question that. He obviously _liked_ what they were doing, and the danger inherent in it (plus, he didn’t give a shit about people seeing _him_), but he was protecting _Dorian’s_ self-interest. Which, if Dorian weren’t a bit of an exhibitionist, would be really sweet. Considering his reputation was _already_ in tatters, though (_and_ Bull knew about Dorian’s fetish), it didn’t make much sense for Bull to be so defensive.

Unless Bull was jealous.

Which didn’t make _any_ sense at all, except it made perfect sense. When it came to Bull himself, he was fine with anyone seeing anything for whatever reason because he just didn’t care. When it came to his people (and Dorian was _certainly_ one his people), Bull would do _anything_ to take care of them. When it came to _Dorian_, Bull didn’t mind _talking_ about their relationship (because he saw it as bragging, more than anything else), but he did everything in his power to keep others from being literal _witnesses_ to it.

“You okay, kadan?” Bull asked, touching Dorian’s jaw with his knuckles.

Dorian smiled. His lover, his _Qunari_, was _possessive_ of him. And it warmed the little cockles of Dorian’s heart to know that. He couldn’t _ever_ talk to Bull about it, because he’d deny it and get all huffy about it, but it was an amazing feeling. Someone _wanted_ him. It was such a sharp contrast from how he’d been raised that it made a big lump sit right in the middle of his throat.

“Right as rain.” Dorian shifted, uncomfortably. “Though I’m going to need a new set of pants if I plan on doing _anything_ for the rest of the day.”

“Now, that’s just not true.” Bull grinned.

“How so?” Dorian blinked at his Qunari.

“Boss gave everyone the day off. What you _should_ be doing is taking me back to your room so I can get you properly naked.”

“Your room is farther away from everything,” Dorian pointed out. He always felt awkward when Bull made him scream in his room. They were in the main hall and there were other quarters on either side of his. Bull’s room was all on its lonesome, allowing Dorian to be as loud as he wanted without tormenting his poor neighbors.

“Your room is closer,” Bull added.

“Your bed is bigger.”

“If we go to my room, at some point we’ll have to leave it.” Bull was ignoring Dorian’s arguments entirely. “Now, it won’t be for two days, since my plan is to fuck you until you realize that I’m _way_ needier than you, but that’s beside the point.”

“What, pray tell, _is_ the point?”

“The point is: where are you going to get clean clothes?”

Dorian narrowed his gaze at Bull, not liking the point that had just been made.

“I’ll change clothes and meet you in your room.”

“Why do that, when I can just follow you to your room and we get started _there_?”

“You need clean clothes, too!”

“I have no shame,” Bull reminded him, “besides, my pants aren’t covered in cum.”

“I don’t want to irritate my neighbors…”

“We’ll be quiet.” Bull shrugged. “No problem.”

Dorian _was_ going to argue some more, but Bull hoisted him up and tossed him over his shoulder (_a la_ Cullen). He whistled a bright, happy tune as he carried Dorian from the library to his quarters. Dorian protested (only out of a sense of obligation), but didn’t fight Bull. For one, it was a losing battle, and for another, it was _far_ more comfortable to be carried than to have to walk in cum-covered pants.


	16. Doom Upon Corypheus

“What do you _mean_ you ‘found an ancient elven well and decided that drinking from it would be a good option’?!” Dorian snapped.

“Well, _I_ didn’t drink from it,” Ellana pointed out, calmly.

“Yes, but you let our ally drink from an _ancient elven well_ with Maker knows how many enchantments or spells were on it.” Dorian ran his hands through his hair. “We could have _studied_ the thing first!”

“Well, Morrigan says she’s got this, so I’m just letting her do her thing.” Ellana shrugged. “She doesn’t seem that bad.”

“I’m just curious as to what the others said to convince you that drinking from _an ancient elven well_ was a good decision.”

“Well, Solas was pretty upset that a human would _dare_ to drink from it, but he was also _very_ insistent that I _do not_ drink from it either.”

“And _why_ didn’t you listen to him?” Dorian threw his hands up. “Ancient elven stuff is _his_ area of expertise!”

“It…” Ellana shook her head. “I just _knew_ that the knowledge from the well would help us. But, I wasn’t stupid enough to do it myself!”

“I thought we had gotten over your insane habit of finding shiny magical things and _touching_ them.” Dorian sighed.

“It’ll be _fine_, Dor.” Ellana waved his concern away. “Besides, she’s with the Inquisition now. If she does something treasonous, we’ll just fight her off, too.”

Dorian groaned and shoved his face into his hands. Ellana, while lovely and his best friend in the world, was so stupidly optimistic that it hurt, sometimes. (Never mind that the universe just went her way all the time. If there was _one_ thing Ellana had over every living thing, it was her ability to survive _anything_. Her luck was impossible.)

“Well, what did it _do_ to her?” Dorian asked.

“She says she now knows everything.” Ellana shrugged. “So it’s an _omniscient_ ancient elven well.”

Dorian groaned, more emphatically this time since Ellana didn’t seem to get it.

“Calm down, Dor.” Ellana grinned. “It’ll be _fine_.”

Fortunately for her (curse her stupid luck), everything _was_ fine.

Yeah, they found out that Morrigan’s mother was actually carrying an aspect of Mythal (which try explaining to literally _any_ of the Andrastians that the elven gods were real) and now Morrigan was beholden to her mother. But, on the bright side, Morrigan knew how to turn into a dragon after meeting with her mother, so fighting Corypheus and his archdemon-dragon-pet was looking a little more realistic.

Corypheus, though, was getting impatient, and had returned to Haven to try to destroy the world. Again. And on top of all that, he had taunted Ellana into fighting him. Which frankly, was just a stupid decision. Unfortunately, the majority of their forces were still on their way back from the Arbor Wilds, so having _any_ sort of assistance wasn’t happening. Corypheus probably did it on purpose. Not that Ellana minded, as she was more of a “do-it-herself” kind of person anyway. She grabbed Dorian, Cassandra, and Bull to lead the charge back to Haven.

“This is a trap,” Cassandra suggested.

“Corypheus is too prideful for a trap,” Ellana pointed out.

“Yeah, but he’s been losing to us at every turn,” Bull reminded her, “He’s gettin’ desperate.”

“Not _that_ desperate,” Dorian had to agree with Ellana, “It’s only a trap insomuch as blatantly taunting and daring the Inquisition to stop him from destroying the world is.”

“Look, if it’s a trap, I just spot it, and we avoid or disarm it.” Ellana shrugged. “No problem.”

“Ten sovereigns says it’s a trap,” Bull muttered.

“I’ll take that bet,” Dorian declared, “every time I’ve bet against our dear Inquisitor, I’ve lost horribly.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t bet _at all_,” Cassandra grumbled.

“You’re on, kadan.” Bull shot him a quick grin.

The fight was long and brutal and Corypheus _was_ desperate by the end of it. Ellana, though, was _way_ better than anyone had anticipated and managed to reseal the Breach, open a rift _inside_ Corypheus, _and_ keep everyone alive. Well, mostly.

Bull had gotten a few nasty-looking gashes from the dragon, Dorian had gotten a few burns from some of Corypheus’ spells, and that didn’t account for any of the other members of the inner circle who had been protecting their flank and rear from demons (Cassandra was the only one uninjured because she had some mystical ability preventing her from taking damage). Ellana was up on top of the tower somewhere. They had been separated, but Dorian was able to witness the fireworks of what she had done. Dorian couldn’t think about the possibility of Ellana_ not_ surviving what happened. It was too much for his tired and frazzled mind. He ignored everything else to focus on healing Bull’s gashes.

“Do me a favor and _don’t_ let me see you get thrown across a parapet by a dragon ever again,” Dorian murmured. He was pretty certain his heart had legitimately stopped when that happened. He froze, like a total idiot, and just watched it happen in slow-motion, almost like he was underwater. Bull had taken a moment to check to make sure he _could_ move, before getting up and running headlong at the dragon again. But in that split second, when he wasn’t moving, Dorian thought Bull had gotten killed. It was almost worse than what happened in the Fade, because Dorian _saw_ Bull not moving.

“Sorry, kadan.” Bull took Dorian’s shaking hands in his own. “Don’t overdo it; they look worse than they are.”

“I’m not,” Dorian argued, though his magic was running on empty. How Bull knew that, Dorian didn’t know. “And I’m healing them; they’re _definitely _as bad as they look.”

“Have a potion then,” Bull insisted. Dorian sighed and obliged his Qunari, unwilling to let him know how much he legitimately needed the foul-tasting concoction. It took a few more minutes for him to take care of Bull’s gashes and his own burns, which were also worse than they looked. He looked over to see Vivienne helping out with the rest of the injuries. Luckily, no one else seemed to have any major wounds, as she was handling it easily. Where was Solas? He should have been helping her. Bull gingerly got to his feet and helped Dorian up.

“Inquisitor? Are you alive?” Cassandra led them to the bottom of the stairs. Dorian stopped breathing, waiting helplessly to hear that Ellana _had_ survived. Right when he thought he had lost her, Ellana started walking down the stairs, an air of total exhaustion about her. It was not fair how much the woman had to go through, but she didn’t seem injured and didn’t look like she was going to pass out either, so Dorian took it as the win it was. He remembered to breathe again when his head started to feel light.

“Then it’s over? How lovely.” Dorian could always trust Vivienne to understate everything.

“And you survive.” Cassandra had a legitimate smile on her face. Dorian wasn’t sure he wasn’t imagining things in his fatigue anymore. “Thank the Maker.”

“And the sky is healed, healthy… whole.” Cole looked up to the aurora in the sky, a permanent fixture to glorify Ellana’s accomplishments. “There’s just that left to remember.”

“Looks that way,” Ellana agreed. Her grin lit up the night.

“What do we do now?” Cassandra asked. Dorian almost hit her. That was a stupid question if he ever heard one.

“We go back to Skyhold,” Ellana decided. She finished walking down the stairs. Dorian was the first to pull her into a hug, but that was because he nearly elbowed Cassandra aside to get to her. It took some time before the group was ready to get moving, what with the injuries, the relief of their success, and just taking a moment to _breathe_. Dorian asked Ellana about where Solas was and got only a shrug as an answer.

Someone sent word back to the Skyhold, because the entirety of the Inquisition forces still at Skyhold had banded together to cheer them on as they entered the gates. Dorian walked several paces behind Ellana, letting her grab as much of the glory as she could. He felt Bull’s gaze on his ass the whole time. Someone must have warned Cullen to be polite, because all he did was hug Ellana for a few long moments before letting her go accept the jubilation from the gathered crowd.

It didn’t take two days for Josephine to get a feast planned and prepared to celebrate.

It took significantly less time to pass the alcohol around.

Dorian knew Bull was deliberately avoiding getting drunk, as the last time he got drunk (after killing the high dragon), he had passed out on the floor before even making it to the bed. Dorian, for his part, let him sleep there and took the bed for himself. But since then, Bull tried not to get drunk. He claimed it was so that he never missed another opportunity to fuck Dorian silly. (Dorian couldn’t find fault with either the logic or the reason.) Still, Dorian enjoyed a few drinks, helping relax him from the fight they had just left behind.

It was odd. Suddenly, now that they’d succeeded, it was like the whole world had opened up to them. The Inquisition was now a major force to be reckoned with. They had successfully taken down an ancient Tevinter darkspawn and his pet archdemon with minimal casualties. (Technically, actually killing Corypheus and his dragon didn’t net _any_ casualties, but Dorian was counting the entire experience since the beginning of the Inquisition.) But, with the major threat gone, was there even a reason to stay in the Inquisition? Dorian had that pipe dream of trying to change and fix his home country for the better.

He glanced across the room to see Bull laughed with Krem.

Maybe he could stay with the Inquisition a bit longer. With Solas gone off somewhere, it wouldn’t do to leave Vivienne as the only mage in Ellana’s inner circle. She'd insist on some truly horrendous clothing. (Dorian was protecting Ellana’s interests and not basing the decision on his own wants, _really_.)

“Hey, Dor.” Ellana snuck up on him while he was pondering Bull’s biceps. (Again.)

“I was passing through the hall this morning, and a serving girl saw me and squealed,” Dorian informed her, mock-accusingly, “actually squealed. Dropped her laundry and everything. Such a mess.” Ellana was grinning already, which was the entire point. “She was completely breathless. ‘You were at the battle with the Evil One, weren’t you?’ I didn’t even get a chance to answer. She hugged me,” he scoffed, “_hugged_ me. This is your influence.”

“Admit it. You’re having a ball,” Ellana laughed. Dorian chuckled.

“I don’t trust the camaraderie. All these people smiling, buying me drinks… it’s unnatural.” He kept his tone light to know that he was joking. If she even got the _hint_ that he was being abused again, he was certain he’d be the first to get in trouble for not telling her. “Mind you, I can’t say I hate the notion of being ‘the good Tevinter’.”

Ellana hugged him around the middle, interrupting his train of thought for a moment. He hugged her back, careful not to let his beer slosh onto her.

“‘I suppose you can’t _all_ be evil bastards.’ The blacksmith said that, and he _spat_ when we first met,” Dorian continued. He noticed the gazes from Cullen and Bull and found neither of them to be envious, jealous, or embarrassed. Dorian wasn’t certain if it was from them being used to the affection between the friends or if they were that secure in their respective relationships. Either way, it was nice to not be judged for being touchy-feely. “I hope my father hears. He will shit his smallclothes from shock, I swear.”

“You’re an example of how noble Tevinter could be,” Ellana pointed out.

“For southerners, maybe,” Dorian disagreed, “back home they’ll be rolling their eyes behind their fans. Meanwhile, they’ll conveniently forget the bastards who wanted Corypheus ruling us all.”

Ellana stepped back and smiled at him. She looked like she was about to leave, flitting off to the next person to talk to.

“I’ve decided…” Dorian cleared his throat, keeping her attention for the moment. “To stay with the Inquisition. For now.”

“Would that have anything to do with Iron Bull?” Ellana gave him a knowing look.

Curse her and her knowledge.

“It might.” He sniffed, trying to not seem so besotted. His reputation was already in tatters without being lovesick for his Qunari. “You know how it is.” Cullen was still eyeing her from across the room. “Plus, what would you do without me?”

“How will I ever know unless you go?” Ellana pointed out.

“Oh, clever.” Dorian grinned. “See? I keep your wits sharp.”

Ellana left him, laughing the whole while. Dorian watched her make her rounds around the room before trying to sneak off to her room. She was followed closely by Cullen. He mock-gagged into his drink.

“They’re cute together.” Bull’s voice made him choke on his beer.

“What? Oh, yes. They are.” Dorian cleared his throat. Bull dropped his arm on Dorian’s shoulders, lightly. It was both a claim and a comfort. Dorian couldn’t bring himself to argue with it.

“How ya doin’, kadan?” Bull asked, still watching the door Cullen and Ellana had disappeared through.

“I’m doing fine, amatus.” Dorian relaxed in Bull’s grip. “I wasn’t the one thrown across a parapet.”

“I wasn’t the one set on fire,” Bull reminded him. He hesitated for a long moment. “I heard you’re staying with the Inquisition.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Dorian asked. “I’ve got nothing for me at home. I’ve got plans to go back and try to fix my homeland eventually. But with all the crazy things we’ve seen, I’m going to wait until it quiets down here before I go anywhere. With Ellana’s luck, we’ll be fighting a giant, darkspawn nug this time next week.” Bull laughed and tightened his arm on Dorian’s shoulders. He took a moment to place a gentle kiss on Dorian’s temple (which perhaps melted him just a bit, but Dorian would not confirm or deny such suppositions).

“I can think of all sorts of things to occupy our time until a giant, darkspawn nug attacks,” Bull murmured.

“Well, if _Cullen’s_ getting laid, we’re already behind,” Dorian said.

“C’mon, kadan.”

Bull led Dorian to, and subsequently fucked him silly on, the war table. They’d already pretty thoroughly abused that poor table in all sorts of unfortunate ways with all sorts of body parts all over Thedas. This time was more of the same: rough, fast, and hard. It was desperation that drove them towards completion, along with the relief of _finally_ having some time off.


	17. Old Faces

“Hey, hey, hey, kadan.”

“_No_.”

“Awww, but kadan…”

“Whining does not become you, amatus.”

“But _kadan_…”

Dorian sighed and looked up from his book.

“You’re sick, therefore, I will _not_ fuck you, because _I_ don’t want to get sick. And, frankly, my darling amatus, you don’t have the _energy_ to have sex.”

Four months after Corypheus, Bull was laid up in his bed, pouting. His eye was watery and his nose runny and he was not at all attractive to anyone but Dorian. Which should have been a sign, all things considered. Bull had gotten a nasty cold from their last adventure in the Fallow Mire and had since become the worst sick person to ever exist. He kept insisting that he was _fine_ and that there was no need to _fuss_ and _“it’s just a cough, kadan”_. Until Blackwall found him nearly unconscious and delirious with fever on the battlements. Ellana ordered Bull bedrest. And then Cole caught him trying to sneak out of his room. So, Dorian was appointed Bull’s nanny, to make sure the great idiot didn’t try anything else.

“But…”

“No buts,” Dorian interrupted, “you’re going to rest and drink some water and if you can’t do that, then I _will_ get a sleeping draught and pour it down your throat.”

“Kinky.” Bull coughed in the middle of the word, ruining whatever effect he was going for.

“Amatus.” Dorian gave him a warning look.

“Kadan, I’m _bored_!” Bull whined, “Let me do _something_!”

“Shall we play chess?”

“We’ve play twelve times already!”

“You could read a book.”

“I’ve read two!”

“How about a nap?”

“I’m not tired!”

“Drink some water.”

“I don’t want to!” Bull started coughed, a wet, hacking sound that Dorian could almost _feel_, it was so bad. Dorian pointed to the water goblet and glared at his Qunari until he obediently drank.

“If you continue to act like a child, I shall have no choice but to treat you like one.”

“Gonna spank me?” Bull leered, lecherously. Well, he _tried_ for lecherous, but the red, runny nose and the red, watery eye ruined it.

“Children don’t get kinky,” Dorian pointed out. “So, no. But, I’ll put you in a barrier that blocks sound so I don’t have to listen to your whining anymore.”

Bull pouted so loudly that Dorian couldn’t refocus on his book.

“Can’t we have a _little_ sex?” Bull asked.

“No.”

“How about a blowjob?”

“No.”

“A rim job? You really like those!”

“Amatus…”

“_Please_, kadan. I’m _dying_ here!”

“Look, I’ll give you a blowjob and then you’re going to _sleep_.” Dorian gave up. They both knew he was going to, but at least he held out for a little while. Bull could be pig-headed when he wanted to be and had proven over and over again that he was _far_ more stubborn than Dorian.

“Fuck yeah.” Bull grinned. “You’re the best, kadan.”

“I know.” Dorian sighed and put his book to the side. Bull settled back on the bed, looking inordinately pleased with himself. Dorian was unsurprised to find Bull naked and hard underneath the blanket. “You’re insatiable.”

“Nah, I can be sated,” Bull disagreed, “but, you’re just so _fuckable_ that I have to keep going.”

“Ugh.” Dorian pretended his ears weren’t burning. After nearly a year together, he thought that maybe he wouldn’t get so self-conscious by Bull’s praise. (He was wrong.)

Bull took an embarrassingly short time to finish, spilling in the back of Dorian’s throat with a hoarse shout. Dorian wiped his drool from his chin and tucked Bull back into the blankets. Bull was already half-lidded and falling asleep. Dorian tried to go back to his chair and his book, but Bull snagged his hand, sleepily.

“Stay, kadan.”

“I’m not going anywhere, amatus,” Dorian promised.

“Here,” Bull demanded, patting the bed next to him. Dorian sighed and settled next to his Qunari. Bull shifted a bit and carefully arranged his head on Dorian’s lap. One horn stuck up straight in the air while the other dropped off the side of the bed. It was the only way Bull could sleep on his side. Dorian tangled his fingers with Bull’s and started scratching lightly at the base of his horns. Bull moaned and his whole body relaxed. Dorian had spent many a night scratching and massaging the thick skin around the base of his horns, easing the itch for his lover. And Bull never let Dorian go a day without reminding him of how much he appreciated the help.

It was so disgustingly domestic. (Dorian adored it.)

Two months later, Bull had gotten it into his head that he should take Dorian on a date. Dorian knew all about it and fought it at every turn. Firstly, just because the Inquisition was popular and well-known and whatnot, it didn’t mean they could just _get away_ with going on a date! Secondly, Bull wanted to go to Val Royeaux, which Dorian thought was just _asking_ for trouble. Thirdly, Bull got his way, because Bull _always_ got his way. He never lost his manipulative edge from being a spy. Instead, he steered that energy towards getting what he wanted from Dorian. Dorian found it simultaneously irritating and arousing. (Which, honestly, was his usual reaction to any and all things Bull-related.)

“Take a couple guards,” Cullen ordered, not even looking up from his paperwork.

Honestly, Dorian assumed that Ellana would mellow Cullen out, but it seemed that he reserved his mellow for her and her alone. And, Dorian assumed Cullen would try to talk them out of it.

“What do we need guards for?” Bull complained, “It’s a _date_.”

Cullen sighed and looked up from his stack of papers.

“Because you are both high-ranking members of the Inquisition and it would be improper for you two to go out into a major city, like Val Royeaux, without guards. Not to mention, Dorian is our Tevinter ambassador. If we _didn’t_ send a guard with him, we’d be mocked by our allies and might get into trouble with Tevinter.”

Dorian blinked.

“When did you turn into Josephine?” He asked.

“When she gave me the same spiel when I tried to take Ellana to Val Royeaux for a date.” Cullen sighed and went back to his paperwork. Dorian valiantly kept his laughter in until they left the office. Bull was not so subtle.

“Take a couple guards!” Cullen yelled after them.

“I still think this date is a silly idea,” Dorian declared.

“So you keep telling me.” Bull didn’t seem concerned at all. He snagged a few guards on duty and dragged Dorian to Val Royeaux. Dorian tried to ignore their presence, but it felt weird to be sitting at a restaurant with them lurking near the table. They were stared at, which Dorian knew was coming, but no one said anything, which surprised him. While homophobia wasn’t rampant in Orlais, it was still weird to see Tevinter and Qunari together at all, much less on a date.

“This drink is crap,” Bull decided.

“It’s _Orlesian_,” Dorian said, by way of explanation.

“We’ll get a real drink back at Skyhold,” Bull suggested.

“Well, we’re here in Val Royeaux,” Dorian pointed out, “Was there anything else you wanted to do?”

“We’re on a _date_, kadan.” Bull rolled his eyes. “It’s for both of us.”

“Fine.” Dorian sighed. “I’d like to go shopping. My clothes are running dreadfully thin, no thanks to all the extra washing they have to go through.”

Bull grinned, not in the least ashamed.

The market was, as always, lively and bustling, but people gave them a wide berth, thanks in part to the guards at their back, but also thanks to Bull’s size. Being Qunari occasionally had perks. Many shops were too small for Bull to even enter, so Dorian avoided those for the most part. By the end of the day, Dorian had bought _far_ too many clothes for Bull’s taste (“Why would you buy clothes, when I just want to tear them off you?”), until, of course, Dorian reminded Bull that he didn’t like sharing (“You _want_ everyone else to see me naked?”). The point was well-taken and Bull stopped complaining about carrying around Dorian’s purchases.

“Wait.” Bull stopped in front of a shop. “I want to go in here.”

“All right.” Dorian moved to go inside when Bull held up a hand.

“I’ll be right back.”

“What?”

“I want to get you a surprise, and if you come with me, it’s not much of a surprise, is it, kadan?” Bull grinned.

“All right, fine.” Dorian sighed and crossed his arms. “But hurry it up, amatus. I’m getting hungry.”

“Be right back.” Bull’s fingers touched the inside of Dorian’s wrist in a gentle squeeze. Dorian’s heart fluttered, as it always did when Bull did that. It was their public version of a kiss. Dorian was pretty private when it came to the world knowing what he and Bull did, but Bull was very affectionate. It took a few outings to figure out the slight motion. It was enough for Bull to be happy but small enough that it didn’t offend Dorian. Dorian would never admit, on pain of death, that he adored the small touch almost more than actually getting kissed by Bull.

“What have we here? A Tevinter whore.”

Dorian sighed and turned to the voice. There was a young man, standing in front of a small group of other young men, all of whom looked like they were getting poisoned on too much testosterone. The guard standing behind Dorian stiffened and stepped forward. Dorian ignored him and looked over the intruders.

“You’re not supposed to answer rhetorical questions. That’s why they’re rhetorical,” Dorian replied, coldly.

“Where’s your Qunari master?” The man sneered.

“You watched him walk into that shop not a minute ago,” Dorian pointed out, “and you waited until he left before accosting me, so I don’t think you want me calling him back out here. Frankly, you should just stop with the whole question bit, as you seem pretty inexperienced with them.”

The man’s face turned red and he snarled at Dorian.

“You’re not welcome here, ‘Vint.”

“Considering I walked straight through the gates and have been here all day, I’d say you’re misinformed on that particular front.”

The man stepped forward, hands clenched into fists. Dorian was considering his options (set the man on fire, ignore the physical threat, step back into the shop to get Bull, or just let the man punch him) when the guard stepped between the two of them, hand gripping his sword.

“Walk away,” the guard ordered.

“Who are _you_?!” The man scoffed.

“That’s the Inquisition,” one of his cadre muttered.

“We should get out of here,” another suggested.

“Shut up!” The de facto leader snapped.

“This man is under the protection of the Inquisition,” the guard said, calmly, “stand down and walk away.”

The man sized up the guard and Dorian and realized that he had the superior numbers (two against seven weren’t great odds when one of the two was a mage). He pulled out a knife, making his band all grab their own weapons. The guard drew his sword.

“My lord ambassador, please step inside the shop,” the guard asked, not seeming to care that then he would be one against seven. It was idiotic, considering Dorian could take care of the majority of the group before the guard could even _do_ anything, but it was that stupid nobility that made the Inquisition what it was. Dorian ignored the request and instead summoned two fireballs into his hands. The group of men froze at the sight. It wasn’t even that impressive, but they obviously had limited contact with mages, else they wouldn’t have been so surprised by the fire.

“Now, let’s all calm down for a moment.” Dorian kept his voice low and soothing. He wasn’t raring for a fight, but he wasn’t going to just let them attack him or the guard. If he could stall them long enough for Bull to leave the shop, perhaps they’d avoid the fight altogether.

“_You_ started this!” The man lunged forward.

The guard snapped his shield up, bashing the man in the face and knocking him back. The group forgot about their weapons in favor of gaping at the guard incredulously.

“Stand down,” the guard repeated. The man had blood streaming down his face. He snarled wordlessly and stumbled to his feet. With a small bit of will, Dorian lit the guard’s sword on fire. The guard didn’t even flinch.

“C’mon.” One of the posse grabbed at the leader. The leader tried to shake him off.

“No, I’m _not_ letting that _abomination_ walk around _our_ city!”

“The only abomination here is your manners,” Dorian replied, primly, “This is not a fight you can win. Walk away.”

The cadre of men dragged their leader away as he screamed profanities at Dorian.

“Thank you for your assistance.” Dorian nodded at the guard, releasing his hold on his magic and dousing the flames on the sword and in his hands.

“It’s my job, my lord.”

Dorian froze as the guard turned to face him. Somehow, with all the blatant ignoring Dorian had been doing, he had finally looked the guard in the face.

“Conrad Whitley?” Dorian felt his jaw drop and promptly closed it, trying to belie his shock.

“Aye, my lord.” Sure enough, the face of the man who, so long ago, tormented and nearly beat Dorian to death, was under the helmet. Dorian had never forgotten those features, but instead of anger or righteous fury (as they were the last time Dorian had seen him), Conrad’s face was pulled into shame and something similar to wry amusement. He was _protecting_ Dorian. Dorian wasn’t sure how to react. Obviously, he had earned enough trust back to be allowed to be an active member of the Inquisition. But Dorian hadn’t known.

“When did you get out of trench-digging duty?” Dorian couldn’t help but ask.

“I wasn’t repositioned and given permission to be a guard until recently,” Conrad admitted, “the Inquisitor had been keeping close tabs on me. Whatever she saw granted me the honor of being able to serve the Inquisition to the best of my ability.”

It was so politically correct, Dorian wanted to slap him. But, they were in the heart of Val Royeaux. It was the best answer he’d get.

“What’s goin’ on?” Bull emerged from the shop, the other guard on his heels (_how_ they both fit inside, Dorian wasn’t sure).

“There were some upstarts trying to start trouble with my lord ambassador, but they were swayed into leaving with little fight,” Conrad reported, dutifully.

“Kadan…” Bull looked at Dorian, voice a light, chiding tone. It meant nothing to anyone else, but it was the _exact_ tone Bull used when Dorian was deliberately pushing the line during sex. Dorian’s brain couldn’t help but make the leap straight to sex. Bull’s heavy gaze told him that he knew _exactly_ where Dorian went.

“It’s taken care of, amatus.” Dorian tried to focus. “They didn’t even get _close_ to me, thanks to Conrad, here.”

“Good.” Bull didn’t seem surprised to see Conrad standing there, but frankly, he was probably keeping tabs on the man as long as Ellana had been and had known _exactly_ who had been sent as their guards. “Nobody hurt?”

“Well…” Dorian shrugged. “I wouldn’t say _that_. Conrad’s shield has some blood on it. That poor shield didn’t deserve having to deal with that man’s face.”

The two guards chuckled, as did Bull, but he was still hyper-focused on Dorian.

“Still hungry?” Bull asked.

“Indeed.” Dorian handed Bull back all the bags of his shopping. “And if you don’t feed me soon, I shall get _very_ cross.”

“All right.” Bull grinned. It was a mask. Something was bothering him about what had happened outside the shop, but Dorian couldn’t put a finger on what it was. “Let’s go feed you. But if they got shit beer again, I’m gonna threaten to flip a table.”

“You could _actually_ flip a table,” Dorian suggested, lightly.

“Nah. They’d have to only have _wine_ to earn _that_.”

They settled in a quiet corner of the restaurant, with their guards at a table nearby. Close enough to see them, but far enough away that they couldn’t eavesdrop. Dorian leaned across the table.

“What’s wrong, amatus?”

“Nothing.” Bull put on his amused face. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Bull hid his surprise, but only _just_. Dorian sighed and shook his head.

“You like to tell me how you know me better than I even know myself.”

“I _do_.”

“Then you know how intelligent I am.”

“I do.”

“Then you know that I’ve learned you as well, amatus.”

Bull fell silent.

“You can read me like a book,” Dorian continued, “I can read you, as well. Now, stop playing dumb with me and tell me what’s going on? We agreed on open communication and honesty, correct?”

Bull shook his head with a sigh.

“Part of me wants to complain that you didn’t bother to get me to help with the situation,” he explained, slowly. He held up a hand when Dorian was going to interrupt. “I know, _I know_. You’re a big boy who can handle himself. That’s not the point, kadan. That reaction is a me thing and I’m workin’ on it. But the other part of me is concerned about you being out there, with all those people who hated you for being a 'Vint with _him_.”

Dorian took a long moment to process those words and try to formulate his own.

“I didn’t know it was him,” he admitted, “I wasn’t paying attention and nobody told me he had gotten promoted from trench-digging to guardsman. I didn’t know until _after_. He protected me, amatus. They were saying some things that were disturbingly similar to what he had said and he didn’t even flinch. He stayed calm and focused and professional.”

“I knew he had gotten out,” Bull confessed, “Boss has been having him closely monitored forever. Cullen was doing it himself, actually. But, Cullen said that he changed and he’s better now. I brought him with us because I wanted to check for myself. I didn’t expect a literal _mob_. I wouldn’t have brought him if I had thought that you’d be unsafe here. I figured: it’s Val Royeaux, we can handle anything here.”

Dorian sighed.

“I wish _someone_ would have told me he was out.” He shook his head. “After all, he _did_ try to kill me on multiple occasions.”

“We were all watching him,” Bull pointed out, “he’d never been assigned anywhere _near_ you until today.”

“We?” Dorian asked. “How many people knew he was out and didn’t tell me?”

“Me. Boss. Cullen. Leliana. Josephine. The Chargers. Cassandra,” Bull listed off.

“Great.” Dorian smiled, humorlessly. “So, _everyone_ knew and didn’t tell me.”

Bull reached across the table and took Dorian’s hands in his. Dorian wanted to snatch them back. He thought that he had become _friends_ with everyone. _No one_ told him. No one even _hinted_ it. He breathed through the lump in his chest, holding the tears of frustration back.

“I’m sorry, kadan,” Bull spoke, softly, “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You’ve upset me more by _not_ telling me that the man who _tried to kill me_ had gotten permission to _have weapons again_.”

“He’ll never hurt you again, kadan.” It was both a threat and a promise and Dorian hated how it kind of made him feel a bit better.

“It’s just a shock.” Dorian tried to shove his emotions to the side. “He _protected_ me. I didn’t think people could change.”

“Digging trenches is good for that,” Bull joked. Dorian gave him a dark look.

“I… need time, amatus.” Dorian sighed. “Can we go home?”

“Of course, kadan.”

Dorian pretended he couldn't see the look of concern on his Qunari's face.


	18. Explanations

When they got back to Skyhold, Bull escorted Dorian back to his room (as he was carrying all of Dorian’s shopping). He dropped a quick kiss on Dorian’s temple with the promise to give him space and time and then left. Dorian adored that man. Which made everything all the more difficult.

He wasn’t left alone for five minutes before Ellana breezed into his room. She didn’t knock (she _never_ knocked), and had seen Dorian and Bull fuck on enough occasions that it didn’t even faze her. She was probably the least shy person in existence. She shut the door behind her and stopped. Dorian looked at her, hoping she would start. He really didn’t want to fight with his best friend, but he was just so _furious _that he couldn’t imagine _anything _she could say to make things right between them. She said nothing, just leaning her back against the door and waiting.

“He tried to _kill_ me, Ell,” Dorian started, trying to remain calm, “at the very least, I thought we were friendly enough for me to have earned a bit of forewarning where he is concerned.”

Ellana didn’t respond. Her silence angered him further.

“How _dare_ you?!” He snapped, losing all pretense for a rational conversation. “He _tried to kill me_, Ellana! I was scared to sleep for _weeks_, thinking he and his posse would sneak in and smother me while I slept! And you just _didn’t tell me_ that he was free to not only run around Skyhold, but to _be a guard_! To _carry weapons_! He could have killed me today! I didn’t even know he was _there_! And _Cullen_ demanded that I take him _with_ me! Bull told me that _everyone_ knew, _but me_! What the _fuck_, Ell?!”

Ellana still stood, quietly at the door. She didn’t appear to have any reaction to his words. Dorian wanted to shake her, get _some_ form of a reaction from her. Something, _anything_, to show that she _cared_.

“Do you want me to have him killed?”

Shock slapped the rage from Dorian in an instant.

“What?”

“Conrad Whitley tried to kill you on multiple occasions,” Ellana said, completely serious, “would you like me to have him executed for that?”

The question came from out of nowhere and it stalled Dorian’s fury into confusion.

“I wasn’t the Inquisitor when that happened, so I couldn’t sentence him, but if I could have, I would have cut his head off myself. When I was finally Inquisitor, we lost too many people at Haven and needed the manpower desperately. Now, I have the power and we don’t need him. Do you want him to die?” Ellana still didn’t move from her position, but her tone told Dorian that she would, without hesitation, kill the man for his past transgressions.

Dorian didn’t like the conversation when it started and he liked it even less when Ellana was being so damn… _Ellana_.

“He… I…” Dorian shook his head, trying to focus. Nothing about this argument was going the way he had expected.

Ellana waited, silently. He hated her for it.

“No.” The answer, when it finally came to him, shocked him. “He… _protected _me today. And not just against some assassins or a bear or something, but _bigots_. The exact people that he was over a year ago. I don’t… Maybe people _can_ change.”

Ellana tilted her head in acknowledgement.

“I’ll take your opinions into consideration while I decide if he’s to be punished.”

“Punished?” Dorian was _not_ following.

“Conrad Whitley was sentenced to stay as far from you and the armory as humanly possible. He was told he’d be digging trenches until he died. After long and careful consideration, Cullen thought that he could be of use to us in better ways. I agreed to let him have a probationary period where he was allowed to train with the other soldiers, but only with wooden weapons. That decision was made the day before yesterday. I was going to talk to you about it to get your opinion _before _I made the decision, but you’ve been busy, and then today you went on your date and I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Everything she said made perfect sense, and yet nothing made sense at all. Dorian started to feel the sharp edges of guilt burn in his gut. Ellana had never betrayed him before. She wouldn’t have done anything to harm him. And, she was right when she said he wasn’t available. Bull had, in a romantic fit, decided to keep Dorian naked and in his bed for two days straight _before_ their date.

“Yesterday, he trained with wooden weapons with the soldiers. He did very well and showed remarkable restraint. Cullen thinks his time in the trenches cooled his head and helped him keep a calm demeanor. Today, there was a misstep. The wife of one of the guards on duty was having a baby, early, it seems. Nobody was prepared for it. The superior called on Whitley to fill in for the day. He had seen Whitley’s performance the day before and thought that he’d do well in the position.”

Dorian wasn’t even sure what to say anymore.

“It was a profound fuckup and the superior is currently getting his ass reamed by Cullen for _daring_ to make that assertion when we have _plenty_ of other people who _haven’t_ tried to kill members of the Inquisition available.” Ellana sighed. “Whitley was following orders. When Bull went to go get guards for your date, he saw Whitley there and decided to test him.”

“Why?” Dorian’s mouth was dry and his gut felt like it was filled with acid.

“Because Bull doesn’t trust _anyone_ with your safety.” Ellana rolled her eyes. “He wanted to test Conrad himself, but didn’t want to postpone your date, so he tried to do both at once.”

It was so _Bull_ that it had to be the truth.

“I was going to come see you to discuss this with you when you got back, because I feel like it’s important to have you involved. We have plenty of postings far from Skyhold. If Whitley did well in his probation, I was planning on sending him to one of them.”

“But…” Dorian struggled to come to terms with what had gone on.

“I was entertaining Ferelden diplomats all day today, else I would have been watching the soldiers train and would have noticed Whitley’s absence. Cullen was with me, as he understands Ferelden customs better than I do,” Ellana explained, “I swear to you, if I had been aware, I _never_ would have let this happen.”

“But… Bull said everyone knew…” Dorian shook his head, trying to reconcile the aborted conversation he had with his lover alongside the in-depth details Ellana was providing him.

“I’m pretty sure decisions _can’t_ be made in secret in Skyhold.” Ellana rolled her eyes. “I think everyone else became aware of the decision to put Whitley on probation, but what happened today was completely unexpected.”

“You’re telling me,” Dorian muttered.

“Look, Dor.” Ellana looked him in the eye, trying to show her sincerity. “I heard his report.” The fact that she knew everything that had happened so soon after they got back to Skyhold told Dorian she was micromanaging the situation. It made him feel a bit better. She was his best friend. She wouldn’t let anything happen to him on her watch. If _Bull_ didn’t trust anyone with Dorian’s safety, _Ellana_ was a million times worse. She was like a mother bear with her cubs.

“And?”

“And he was confronted with every ugly thing he had ever felt for you and said to you. He defended you, didn’t instigate the violence, but stopped it swiftly.” Ellana crossed her arms. “He did _exactly_ what we want our guards to do. And he did while having to confront the worst thing he had ever done in his life. I really _do_ think he’s changed. And, he was sobbing when he was giving his report.”

“Wait, _what_?!”

“Conrad Whitley was _crying_ while giving his report to Cullen,” Ellana repeated, “he said that he always regretted what he did to you, but when it was thrown back in his face today, it hit him _exactly_ what it meant to be you on a daily basis. And, you were _willingly_ staying in a place that would kill you as soon as look at you. He has a lot of respect for you.”

“Sure, he does.” Dorian scoffed.

“He said he wanted to apologize, but felt like it was too little too late and that if you had moved on, he didn’t want to dredge it up for you.”

Dorian tried to reconcile the new Conrad Whitley with the memories and nightmares of the man tormenting him and couldn’t do it.

“Look, he’s _really_ changed. It’s been over a year since that… bullshit.” Ellana sighed. “If you want him dead for it, I won’t even hesitate. Otherwise, I’m going to send him to one of our remote outposts so long as he shows real promise in his probationary period with Cullen. And that way he won’t be a danger to you.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to keep him here so you can keep an eye on him?” Dorian asked, humorlessly.

“I’ve got the greatest spymaster in existence on my payroll.” Ellana gave him a knowing look. “Do you _really_ think I’d just _let_ the guy who _tried to kill you_ run around without keeping a close eye on him?”

“Uhm…”

“He’s getting to _do_ something, but he’s being watched. It will be a _long_ time before he earns enough trust to be on his own. It might never happen.”

“That seems like a waste of resources,” Dorian muttered.

“We have our spies in _every_ outpost.” Ellana shrugged. “It’s not even allocating a new spy _for_ him. It’s just adding a job to the spy already there.”

She really _had_ thought of everything. It was irritating in its thoroughness.

“Fine.” Dorian huffed and sat on his bed. He _wanted_ to be mad, but she had obviously done _way_ more thinking about this than he had. And she was trying to keep him safe at the cost of the Inquisition. He couldn’t stay mad at her for that.

“Fine?”

“Let him go do his… whatever.” Dorian sighed. “I don’t care anymore.”

“Now, _that’s_ just a lie.” Ellana sat on the bed next to him and hugged him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Dorian shook his head. “Not anymore. I think you have a magical ability to avoid having people mad at you.”

“Now, _that’s _just not true,” Ellana chuckled, “how many enemies does the Inquisition have just because I’m a sassy-pants?”

“Touché.” Dorian wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

“Are you mad at Bull?”

“I don’t know.”

And he truly didn’t.

“He cares about you.”

“I know that.”

“No,” Ellana looked him in the eye, “I mean, he loves you, Dor.”

Dorian’s heart stopped.

“Don’t be absurd.” His lips were numb. “We care for each other, sure, but that’s all.”

“You’ve already lied to me once this conversation.” Ellana pointed out. “This is the second time. Do it again and I’ll throw a book at your head.”

“That’s not…” Dorian couldn’t even find _words_ anymore. “We’ve never…”

“You call him ‘amatus’ and you think the notion of _loving_ him is far-fetched?” Ellana asked, incredulously, “Dor, you’re a brilliant mage and you’re a wonderful person, but when it comes to emotions, you’re a total moron.”

“He _can’t_ love me,” Dorian argued, “I’m…”

“Amazing? Wonderful? Caring? Brilliant? Funny?”

Dorian gave her a dark look.

“I know you think you’re clingy, but honestly, you and Bull have been together _for a year_. If he thought you were too clingy, he wouldn’t have stayed. He calls you ‘kadan’ for fuck’s sake!” Ellana shoved Dorian, gently. “You think you’re clingy? Bull thinks you’re adorable. He _adores _the fact that you like to cuddle him at any given opportunity. He _loves_ that you crave touch, because he needs it just as much as you. You think that _you’ve_ been touch-starved? I _know_ he’s told you his experiences in Seheron. You two are _the same_. He loves you more than he loves anything else.”

Dorian swallowed tightly. He did _not_ want to be listening to this, but he kind of _did_ at the same time. It was somehow _different_ when Ellana said it. Bull could have said it and Dorian would have brushed it off. But Ellana wasn’t _in_ the situation. She didn’t gain anything from saying this (though she’d been all for their relationship since long before the relationship even _happened_).

“And, you love him,” she continued, “I know you do. You took care of him when he was sick. Don’t try the line that _I_ made you do it, because we all know you _demanded_ to be the one to take care of him.” Dorian flushed at the memory of that conversation. “He knows you better than anyone else. Even me. And you _deserve_ to love and be loved, Dorian. I don’t care _what_ bullshit you heard in Tevinter.”

The tears leaked unbidden from his eyes. Ellana hugged him tightly.

“Nothing’s changed, Dorian,” she murmured, “you two have been in love for a long time. Just because you have a word for it now, doesn’t mean it hasn’t been there.”

“I really, _really_ hate you, you know that?” Dorian blubbered out like an idiot.

“I know.” Ellana kissed his cheek. “And I accept my fate as second fiddle in your life. Now, stop crying and go make up with your Qunari. Where _is_ he anyway? He should be here helping you through this Conrad crap, not me.”

“He’s giving me space.”

“Okay, now _that’s_ love,” Ellana pointed out, “he’s _giving you space_ because you asked for it. He sure as shit didn’t _want_ to give you space.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The man would fuck you in the middle of the courtyard if he could get away with it,” she noted, dryly, “he’d rather be around you and touching you than _literally_ anything else in the world. He did _not_ want to give you space.”

Dorian took a moment to deal with that mental image.

“Now, because he promised you space, he will _not_ come to see you. _You_ have to go to him.” Ellana stood up and pulled Dorian to his feet. “He’s probably freaking out that he screwed up and you hate him. Go see your man.”

“I _hate_ you,” Dorian decided, as she shoved him from the room.

“I know!” Ellana called back cheerfully, going off to do whatever it was she did in her spare time (get involved in other people’s affairs and distract Cullen incessantly). That left Dorian alone to make his way slowly to Herald’s Rest. He walked in and was surprised to see that Bull’s standard seat was empty. He wandered over to Krem, who was making eyes at Maryden. His crush on Scout Harding had lasted all of a few moments, because Maryden’s voice had stolen his attention. And, Maryden wasn’t always running off to the far outposts of the Inquisition every other week like Scout Harding was. Dorian hadn’t seen Krem actually _speak_ to Maryden, but he kept lurking, making eyes at her.

“Have you talked to her, yet?” Dorian asked. Krem started and almost fell off the back of the chair. Why he insisted on sitting on the back of the chair instead of _in_ the chair, Dorian had no idea.

“None of your business.” Krem’s cheekbones turned bright pink.

“You had been trying to manipulate Bull and me for _weeks_,” Dorian reminded him, “it’s _completely_ my business. Besides, the Inquisition is just an excuse for everyone to get involved in everyone else’s business.”

Krem muttered something unflattering in Tevene under his breath.

“Shouldn’t you be making eyes at _him_?” Krem asked.

“I would, but he’s not here. So you get me instead.”

“Oh, right. Chief said he was meeting with the Commander for something,” Krem recalled, “What happened on your date? Chief came back pretty upset.”

“Upset?” Dorian couldn’t recall Bull getting _upset_.

“Well, it’s the thing he was doing back before you both admitted you love each other.” Krem waved the thought away. “He gets this… pissy attitude about everything. Got upset that we didn’t have a training session today, even though he _told_ us to take the day off. Got some of that Qunari drink in him before the Commander called him away.”

“He drank that after we killed a high dragon,” Dorian pointed out, “he uses it for celebration.”

“Or for when he’s upset,” Krem added, “Trust me: he drank it a bunch after you lot walked through the Fade. He stopped drinking it much at all since you called him ‘amatus’.”

“Yeah, _thanks_ for that, by the way.” Dorian flushed. “It’s not that big of a deal. We’re not in Tevinter, you know.”

“Thank the Maker for that.” Krem shook his head. “And it _is_ that big of a deal, ya moron. _You’re_ an Altus. Calling _anyone_ ‘amatus’ is meaningful. If it were me, a Sorporati, you could _maybe_ argue that it’s something light, but it’s you. And ‘amatus’ is meaningful. You know it, I know it, so stop pretending it’s nothing. ‘Sides, that was months ago.”

“Yes, but we hadn’t discussed it, yet,” Dorian said, “and, you got me into trouble with him.”

“You _can’t_ get in trouble with Chief.” Krem rolled his eyes. “He adores everything there is about you.”

“That’s the second time today someone has said that,” Dorian mumbled, blushing like a madman. He hated how much he liked hearing it.

“That’s because it’s true.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s just going to _do_ things because he thinks he knows better.”

Krem stopped eyeing Maryden over Dorian’s shoulder and focused entirely on him for a long moment.

“Chief _always_ thinks he knows best. He doesn’t, but he thinks he does,” Krem offered, carefully, “He doesn’t know how to trust others, period, much less with their own lives. We’ve been with the Inquisition nearly since it started and he _still_ doesn’t trust the Inquisitor.”

“He trusts Ellana,” Dorian argued. She was the one to convince him to give up the Qun entirely. Bull wouldn’t have done that for just _anybody_.

“Not with her own life.” Krem shook his head. “Chief doesn’t trust the Chargers with our lives.”

“He lets you go off on missions by yourselves all the time,” Dorian pointed out.

“He’s got no choice. He knows that we’re too independent to be mothered all the time, so he has to give us space. You’re different.”

“How am _I_ different?” Dorian scoffed. “I’ve saved his life multiple times. I’ve never been seriously injured in all our ridiculous adventures. I’ve never even been _sick_, which is more than I can say for the big baby.”

“He loves you.” Krem shrugged, like the answer was obvious. “Yeah, he cares about us Chargers, and the Inquisitor, too, but you’re… you’re his amatus.”

Dorian didn’t have any response for that. So, he wisely shut up.

“Look, Chief won’t say it first.” Krem sighed. “He thinks you’re always one step away from ending everything.”

“_What?!_”

Krem waved Dorian’s outburst away.

“It’s not you, it’s him. He’s insecure, though he hides it well. Since you’ve called him ‘amatus’ and he knows what it means and how significant it is, he’s kind of relaxed a bit. But, he’s still worried one day he’s just going to screw up and you’ll leave.”

“He’s such an idiot.” Dorian sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’m mad at him, but I’m not going to leave him.”

“The whole Whitley thing is a load of shit,” Krem agreed, “I thought you knew. ‘Til Chief came in and started drinking. Stitches overheard Cullen yelling at someone. He put it together and told the rest of us. We don’t care what happens, we won’t let him hurt you again.”

“I don’t even know what I’m going to _say_ to him,” Dorian admitted.

“Be honest,” Krem advised, “Chief would rather know _everything_ than have you dance around it thinking you’re going to hurt his feelings.”

“Hurt whose feelings?”

Krem and Dorian jumped in surprised at the low timbre of Bull’s voice.

“Oh, look at that, Rocky needs me for something.” Krem’s voice was pitched high as he tried to make a clean escape. Dorian wondered if the man would _ever_ be able to lie.

“Has he talked to her yet?” Bull asked, watching his lieutenant hurry from the tavern.

“Not yet.”

“If he doesn’t hurry up, he’s going to miss his chance.”

“Maybe not,” Dorian disagreed, “maybe a long courtship is what they need.”

“Like seven months?” Bull’s voice was light, like he was cracking a joke, but his face was so serious, it looked like it was made of stone.

“If you’re amenable, I’d like to talk,” Dorian said, politely, “I’ve gotten some more information and I’ve thought about things.”

“Sure.” Bull led Dorian up to his room, his entire form tense. He shut the door and Dorian noticed his hands were clenched into fists. The Qunari, _his_ Qunari, was scared, Dorian realized. He thought that Dorian was going to end their relationship. Even the _notion_ of ending things made Dorian sick to his stomach. There was _no way_ he could do it, no matter _what_ Bull said or did. Bull was his amatus, and that was a title that didn’t go away just because of a misunderstanding or a fight. Dorian was _keeping_ him, damn it all. So, Bull could stop with the self-pity and thinking that things weren't going to work out, because that was a crock of bullshit.


	19. Confessions

“I’m not ending things, you daft idiot,” Dorian snapped.

“Okay,” Bull agreed, amiably. He didn’t relax at all, though. It was frustrating. Dorian just wanted to be _mad_ at his Qunari. And instead, he looked like a kicked puppy and Dorian _couldn’t_ stay mad at him.

“Why, pray tell, would I call you my amatus, something we have clearly defined at _not ending ever_, if you think I’m going to end this at a moment’s notice?” Dorian pointed out.

“It’s just a word.” Bull shrugged, trying for casual and failing miserably. Well, _there_ was Dorian’s anger.

“How _dare_ you?!” Dorian shoved his finger viciously into Bull’s chest. “Amatus is _not_ ‘just a word’, you insensitive _ass_! We _talked_ about this! I would _never_ accuse you calling me ‘kadan’ as ‘just a word’. It’s _not_ just a word! It’s _everything_. If you truly think that ‘amatus’ is _just a word_, then maybe you should go talk to Krem again, since you’re obviously _not_ believing what _I_ have to say. Fuck, crack open a fucking _book_ and do some research on it! Amatus is _more_ than…” Dorian voice cracked and he stopped. Angry tears fell down his features. He swiped at them, irritably. He swallowed tightly and tried to reign in his self-righteous fury. This was not why he was upset with Bull and it was distracting him from the main point.

“I love you, you fucking ass.” Dorian couldn’t even _look_ at Bull, he was so mad. “And if you think that every little misstep or mistake one of us makes is going to end things, then you’re more of an idiot than I thought.”

Dorian wanted to just _punch_ something. He wanted to get away. He wanted to just stew in his frustration and let Bull _know_ he fucked up. Because the Conrad Whitley thing could be debated and forgiven eventually. Accusing Dorian of just _using_ ‘amatus’ with no real meaning was nigh-unforgivable.

“What did you say?” Bull’s voice was quiet, softer than Dorian had ever heard it.

“I said you’re a fucking ass and an idiot,” Dorian snapped.

“Dorian, _what did you say_?” Bull asked, a little desperate, a little frustrated, and _all_ demanding.

“I said _I love you_.” Dorian looked up, meeting Bull’s gaze. “This isn’t some fling; I don’t think it’s _ever_ been just a fling. You’re my amatus. You’re stuck with me until one of us dies and then you’re _still_ stuck with me. You don’t get to get out of this by screwing up or upsetting me or whatever. You’ve upset me in multiple ways today, but we can work past them. If you think it’s unforgivable and things should end, that’s on you. But know that I will _never_ have someone else for me. I only get one amatus. You’re it. So, stop feeling sorry for yourself and _help me fix this_.”

Dorian was crumpled into a bone-crushing hug not two seconds after he stopped talking.

“I’m sorry, kadan,” Bull murmured in Dorian’s ear. He sounded broken in a way Dorian had never heard before. He felt something wet drip against his neck and realized his lover was crying.

“Damn right, you’re sorry.” Dorian hugged him as much as he could. “You don’t get to accuse _me_ of not committing, Mr. Never Been In A Committed Relationship Ever.”

“The Qun doesn’t allow for such interpersonal relationships,” Bull reminded him, “and your only other relationship was fucked up.”

“True enough.” Dorian felt his chest release. There was tightness, a constriction that had been choking him since Bull shut the door. And it finally relaxed. “But at least I’ve had one.”

“I’ve got one now,” Bull said, pressing a kiss to Dorian’s neck. Dorian shivered at the contact. Bull put him down and took his face in his hands. They just stared at each other for several long minutes. Then Bull leaned down and kissed Dorian. It was gentle yet desperate, as Bull tried to convey every little apology he possibly could into it. Dorian almost melted.

“Amatus, you’re an idiot.”

“I am.”

Bull wrapped his arms around Dorian and carried him to the massive chair before the fire (the one that Dorian spent _ages_ saving up for and hunting down the _perfect_ carpenter who then had issues figuring out that Dorian was _not_ lying about the dimensions). Bull settled in the chair with Dorian in his lap. He seemed convinced that Dorian would literally disappear if they stopped touching, so he kept Dorian close. The fire wasn’t lit and it was a bit chilly, so Dorian threw a fireball at the kindling. Bull carefully wiped away the wet tracks on Dorian’s face, hands tender and loving.

“I didn’t mean to accuse you of just saying ‘amatus’,” Bull spoke, softly, “it was a fucked up thing to say and I didn’t and don’t mean it. I’m sorry, kadan.”

“Don’t do it again.” Dorian settled himself against Bull’s chest, listening to the heavy and strong heartbeat. It relaxed him, as it always did. “Not unless you want a fireball to the face.”

“Never again.” Bull’s voice was so solemn that Dorian just _knew_ that no matter _what_ happened to the two of them, Bull would _never_ try to invalidate ‘amatus’ ever again.

“Now, that we’ve settled _that_–” Dorian stole one of Bull’s hands to lace their fingers together, “–shall we discuss the _other_ reason you’ve upset me today?”

“I wanted to keep an eye on him and make sure Cullen and Boss weren’t making a mistake,” Bull explained. He sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “If I had known something would happen in Val Royeaux, I _never_ would have brought him with us.”

“You _didn’t tell_ me,” Dorian reminded him. He was so exhausted from his ire not moments ago that he couldn’t even find the energy to summon any more anger. “You knew that the man who tried to kill me was supposed to be guarding me and you didn’t tell me. What if something _had_ happened while you were in the shop? I didn’t even know he was there until _after_ everything happened. If I had put _any_ faith into his job of keeping me safe and he wasn’t trustworthy, he could have _killed_ me.”

“I know,” Bull murmured, kissing Dorian’s temple, “it was a mistake on my part. It won’t happen again.”

“You might be a spy, but you _don’t_ know best.” Dorian met Bull’s gaze, solemnly. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve to know. You don’t get to make decisions for me. I’m not a child. We’re _partners_. That means _equal_.”

“Agreed.” Bull touched their forehead together, which was _way_ more meaningful to him than Dorian first realized. (He had since learned that it was the closest thing to a sign of affection that Qunari were allowed.) “Partners and equals. I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you, kadan. What can I do to fix things?”

“Don’t do it again.” Dorian kissed the tips of the fingers that were missing a joint. Bull shivered. Dorian knew from _lots_ of experience how sensitive those fingers were. (He might have deliberately used that information in public to get some… _fun_ reactions from his Qunari.) “And stop thinking I’m going to leave you. You’re more likely to leave me than the other way around.”

“Not happening.” Bull made it a solemn vow. It made Dorian’s heart stutter.

“Then it looks like we’re stuck together.” Dorian idly traced his thumb along a scar on the back of Bull’s hand. “For the rest of our lives. No more insecurities, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Bull promised, “if it happens again, I’ll tell you.”

“Damn straight. Open and honest communication, right?”

“Right.” Bull kissed Dorian’s temple again. “I’m sorry, kadan.”

“I know, amatus.” Dorian pulled Bull down into a soothing kiss. Bull’s hand (the one _not_ tangled with Dorian’s) rubbed gentle circles on Dorian’s lower back. Dorian shifted on Bull’s lap, trying to keep their lips attached. Bull made a small noise in his chest. It ignited a fire in Dorian’s chest. He made an answering noise and the kiss turned from gentle and reassuring to passionate and scorching.

“Kadan…” Bull pulled back, trying to keep things calm.

“Amatus.” Dorian shifted to where he was straddling Bull. He grabbed Bull’s face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. Bull took a deep, shuddering breath. Dorian wiped the tears from his lover’s face and kissed him, long and slow and desperate.

“Thought you were mad at me.”

“I am.”

“So…?”

“So, fix it.”

“As you wish, kadan.”

Bull’s hands slid up Dorian’s thighs to his lower back, slipping underneath the myriad of belts to get to skin. His calloused fingers rubbed little circles on Dorian’s lower back, drawing a gasp from his throat. Dorian kept hold of Bull’s face, kissing him over and over. They didn’t move for a long time, just kissing and touching and letting the rest of the world fall away.

Eventually, though, Dorian got a bit impatient (as he was wont to do). His hands slipped from the stubble-covered jaw down to the leather straps. He had a _lot_ of experience getting that harness off, so it took very little time. Bull, on the other hand, seemed content to slowly maneuver the belts and straps from Dorian’s body. Dorian bit Bull’s lip to get him to hurry up. Bull grumbled lightly in his throat and stole Dorian’s clever fingers, which were inching lower and lower to get into Bull’s pants. Bull laced their fingers together and took hold of Dorian’s attention with just his lips and tongue. Dorian couldn’t help but rock his hips forward, a silent plea for _more_.

Bull was stubborn and had plenty of self-control, though. Their fingers locked together, their lips and tongues clashing, and the tiny little rocking motion of Dorian’s hips was all that happened for several more long minutes. It was like Bull was deliberately taking things slow and gentle, which somehow, was _exactly_ what Dorian wanted. They’d fucked all sorts of different ways: fast, slow, hard, rough, tied up, in various places around Thedas and Skyhold… But they hadn’t explored this… tenderness.

Finally, Bull released Dorian’s hands to remove the ridiculous number of belts around Dorian. Bull complained _constantly_ about how much a pain in the ass it was to get Dorian naked, but his fingers made quick work of them. It wasn’t long before Dorian was bare-chested with his pants hanging low off his hips, his whole body pressed against Bull’s. Bull’s fingers explored the expanse of skin on Dorian’s back. Dorian moaned into Bull’s mouth. Bull’s arms wrapped around Dorian and he got to his feet, gingerly.

“Shit, your ankle…” Dorian lost focus.

“It’s fine, kadan.” Bull settled them both on the bed.

“It’s not.” Dorian slithered down the bed to get to said ankle. He tugged Bull’s boots off before helping get those ridiculous pants from his lover’s form (not that removing said pants was necessary for dealing with the old injury). He wanted to pay attention to Bull’s erection, but frankly, his ankle was more concerning. Dorian tried to help ease the pain from the old wound as often as he could. He rested his hands on either side of Bull’s ankle. A small touch of magic and heat emanated from his palms, seeping into the tissue and muscle and bone. Bull groaned a long note of pleasure. Dorian pressed a kiss to the joint and looked up at his lover.

Bull’s gaze was so tender, so gentle, that Dorian almost cried again. How he became such a sap, he wasn’t even sure, but Bull was just _ruining_ his ability to pretend he didn’t feel emotions. He kissed Bull’s ankle again, a silent moment of gratitude for all the care Bull showed him, before crawling back up the bed. Bull rolled over, trapping Dorian beneath him with a fond smile. Dorian opened his mouth to make _some_ witty comment, but Bull stole his lips. Dorian’s hands found Bull’s jaw again. Bull helped strip Dorian’s pants and boots off in short, sure motions, kissing whatever bit of skin his mouth was closest to.

“Amatus…” Dorian was groaning, but he wasn’t even sure what he was asking for anymore. This… whatever it was they were doing, it wasn’t their normal routine at all. They’d never been this… relaxed and gentle and affectionate. Yes, they cared about each other, but this was different… _more_. It was destroying any and all ability Dorian might have had to pretend he wasn’t madly in love with his Qunari.

“Shhh.” Bull’s kiss was enough to calm the edge. Dorian relaxed on the bed, touching and being touched in return. Bull’s erection pressed into his hip while his own erection was trapped against Bull’s thigh. But the need, the _lust_, was secondary to the desire, the passion. Dorian didn’t know how long they stayed there, just letting their hands relearn and explore each other. He adored every second of it. He discovered new places on his Qunari’s body. Bull’s ears were far more sensitive than most other places (something to utilize later) and his nipples were basically useless. Dorian, on the other hand, learned that _his_ nipples were a live wire to his arousal. Bull was ticklish around his lower abdomen, right above his erection, and Dorian wasn’t ticklish anywhere on his torso. Bull had a scar that ran from his collarbone down to the bottom of his sternum and touching it with his tongue was the fastest way for Dorian to elicit a moan from his lover. Dorian, however, was quite vocal and it was absurdly easy to get noises out of him.

Dorian was aroused and desperate for more, but it was a muted desperation. He longed for more, but was so content with what was happening that he didn’t bother to fight to move on. Bull seemed to be of the same mind, because he didn’t seem willing to separate his body from Dorian’s long enough to get the oil. Eventually, though, the need became too much. Bull slicked his fingers up and Dorian spread his legs in anticipation.

“Fuck, kadan,” Bull murmured.

“What?” Dorian’s chest was heaving with desire.

“Do ya gotta _do_ that?” Bull asked, gesturing at Dorian’s spread legs.

“It’s easier access.”

“It’s fuckin’…” Bull couldn’t find the right word and decided to kiss Dorian instead. It spoke of his arousal and desperation. Dorian loved every second. Bull’s fingers were slow to prepare him, following the tempo of their foreplay. And Bull kept kissing Dorian, keeping the harsh edge of lust at bay. Bull drew Dorian into the fond, affectionate desire with three fingers and his tongue. One of Dorian’s hands held tight to the back of Bull’s neck while the other searching blindly for the pot of oil. He spilled a bit, but managed to coat his hand. He reached down and found Bull’s hard length and stroked firmly. He wasn’t trying to tease or even get Bull off, but was trying to slick him up. Bull’s hips jerked at the touch, but otherwise, Bull had no reaction. He was intently focused on ensuring Dorian was thoroughly prepared.

Dorian rocked his hips forward and arched his back, trying to get _more_. He _needed_ to be filled with Bull with a hunger he’d never felt before. Bull got the message and shifted between Dorian’s legs. Dorian hooked his knees on Bull’s hips. Bull guided himself into Dorian, pressing forward slowly, but firmly. Once Bull’s hips met Dorian’s, Bull froze, breathing heavily. Dorian wrapped his arms around Bull’s neck, clinging to him for dear life. Bull slipped his arms around Dorian, locking them together in a tight embrace. Dorian tilted his head so his lips could slot against Bull’s.

Bull’s hips rocked forward, putting intense pressure on Dorian’s prostate. Dorian whimpered into Bull’s mouth. Due to their position, Bull couldn’t properly pull out, but it didn’t really matter. The small, short thrusts he could manage were enough to satisfy Dorian’s lust. Dorian moaned and gasped for air while Bull stole kiss after kiss from Dorian’s lips. At some point, Bull’s face ended up in Dorian’s neck while Dorian’s head was thrown back. That was when Dorian finally heard it. Bull had always been talkative, no matter what their sexual adventures entailed. His voice was a catalyst for Dorian’s desire and Bull knew it well. But something had changed, because the only thing out of his mouth was a soft vow.

“Kadan.”

Bull didn’t seem to have the brain power for more than that. He kept saying it over and over again, swearing himself to Dorian with every repetition. Dorian didn’t think it was possible for him to feel anything more, but tears welled up at the pure _love_ he felt from Bull.

“Amatus…” Dorian breathed, “I love you.”

Bull’s voice cracked and a whimper interrupted his mantra. Dorian said it again. Bull’s hips stuttered in their rhythm. It became a call and response.

“Kadan.”

“I love you.”

The words lost their meaning, but at the same time, meant more than anything else they had ever said to each other. Every iteration was more meaningful, more emotional, _more_. Dorian choked out a desperate “amatus” and tears ran from his eyes as his orgasm crashed over him, surprising him with its intensity. He’d been fucked thoroughly for the past year and yet every previous orgasm paled in comparison to the depth of pleasure he got from their lovemaking. Bull let out a soft sob when his own orgasm hit, not moments later. His entire body trembled against Dorian’s.

Neither one of them moved until the sweat cooled on their skin. Bull detangled his limbs from Dorian’s and pulled back far enough to look Dorian in the eyes. Dorian knew, without a doubt, that Bull felt the same thing he had, the same connection, the same _love_. It was both terrifying and astonishing at the same time. Bull touched their foreheads together for a long moment before pressing a gentle kiss to Dorian’s lips. Bull lazily cleaned up before dropping down on the bed. Dorian took the opportunity to entangle their limbs again, wrapping himself neatly around his Qunari.

“That one I’m willing to try again,” Dorian mumbled, sleepily. Bull huffed out a laugh, his fingers trailing aimlessly up and down Dorian’s spine.

“That’s gonna have to be one of the occasional ones,” Bull replied, “It’s too intense for every night.”

“Mm-hmm.” Dorian hummed his agreement.

“Kadan?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.” Dorian lifted his head to steal a quick kiss before snuggling back down on his Qunari pillow. “G’night, amatus.”

“Good night, kadan.”

Every night they slept together, Dorian was able to fully relax. It was one of those things he was _never_ going to tell Bull. But this time, he felt _safe_ and _loved_ in a way he’d never felt in his entire life. He wasn’t really tired, but the emotional toll of lovemaking kept him from remaining conscious for very long. When he finally slept, he was dragged into the dark, dreamless sleep that allowed for true rest.


	20. Too Much To Drink

“I’m trying to figure out where this conversation started from and it’s just all a blur.” Dorian might’ve been slurring, but he couldn’t really tell.

“Well, if you blur into demons, I’m gonna shoot you in the face,” Sera decided, swaying on her stool.

“If I blur into demons, I wouldn’t hold it against you,” Dorian replied.

“What are you two up to?” Bull’s warm presence at Dorian back made him smile. He leaned against his Qunari and tilted his head back. Bull kissed him obligingly and chuckled. “Ah, drinks and insults again.”

“S’fun when he’s not being all uppity and gold-shitting.” Sera was dangerously close to falling off her stool. Maybe she was getting dizzy.

“Is the room spinning for you?” Dorian asked.

“Jus’ a lil’.”

“Ha! Not for me yet!”

“Another drink!” Sera yelled in the direction of the bartender.

“Let’s not,” Bull interrupted, “Boss wants to see you, Sera.”

“Wha?” Sera was _so_ not focused. Dorian snickered into his mug, which was unfortunately empty. And Bull wouldn’t let him have any more.

“Ellana. The Inquisitor,” Bull said, slowly, “she’s looking for you. Go find her.”

“Piss!” Sera jumped off the stool with a surprising amount of grace and nearly face-planted into the dirt. Bull caught her from actually falling. She shoved back from him. “I can do it myself!”

“Sure thing.” Bull was amused. Dorian liked it when Bull was amused. It was adorable. A-dora-ble. A-Dori-Bull!

“We’re adoribull,” Dorian informed his lover.

“Sure, we are.” Bull was hiding a smile, Dorian could see it.

“Noooo…” Dorian tried to get Bull to follow him. “A-dori-bull.”

“Yep, you’re adorable,” Bull agreed, “come on.”

“Noooo…” Dorian whined, letting Bull pull him to his feet, “You don’t _understand_, it’s _clever_. I’m clever.”

“Yes, you are.” Bull escorted Dorian to the staircase, probably to take him back to his room. It was a pretty nice room. But he still had no roof. It was very cold sometimes.

“No, _amatus_…” Dorian protested, looking at the stairs, “I don’t _want_ to do stairs.”

“Not a problem, kadan.” Bull’s forearms tucked under Dorian’s shoulders and knees and hauled him into his arms.

“But I’m not _done_ yet.” Dorian looked around. _Now_, the room was spinning. “Where’s Sera? I’ve got to insult her haircut…”

“She’s gone to see Ellana,” Bull replied, patiently. He carried Dorian up the stairs without any effort.

“Do you even _know_ how bad her haircut is?” Dorian asked, “It’s like… _kaffas_.” Dorian lost his train of thought, instead focusing on trying to keep the room in one place. With Bull moving up the staircases, it wasn’t particularly easy. “Why isn’t the room sitting still?”

“Just give it a moment, kadan.” Bull kept walking. “The room will settle down.”

“Why’d I drink so much?” Dorian complained, “Sera makes me drink too much.”

“Sera makes _everyone_ drink too much,” Bull agreed, amiably.

“Why are you babying me?” Dorian narrowed his eyes at Bull’s face. It helped keep him from getting dizzy. “I’m just drunk, not incompetent.”

“Because, kadan, you were starting to loudly proclaim your appreciation for my dick in front of the entire tavern.”

Dorian shut up, trying to keep all those words in the right order in his mind. It took him a moment to figure out what the words _meant_.

“I did _not_!”

“You started explaining to Sera that the best part of having a Qunari lover was the fact that there was _literally_ no way for my dick to _not_ hit your prostate.” Bull sounded like he was quoting Dorian verbatim. It wasn’t fair. Dorian was drunk. He couldn’t keep up with Bull when he was impaired. Nothing about this was fair. “Life’s not fair, kadan.”

Now, Bull was reading Dorian’s thoughts.

“No, you’re speaking out loud.”

Dorian glowered suspiciously at his lover.

“Is Cole around?”

“No, Krem took him out when you and Sera started comparing sex with women to sex with men.”

“Oh, no!” Dorian tried to look over Bull’s shoulder to see the little nook that was Cole’s own. “Did I scar him? He’s so innocent!”

“You didn’t scar him. Krem got him out before you got too crude.” Bull kicked a door shut and Dorian realized he was in Bull’s room. Wonderful. He liked Bull’s room. It was very… Bull. It had gathered a pile of books next to the bed from all the nights Dorian spent there. Bull took Dorian and settled in his chair, holding Dorian close.

“I think I should give up my room,” Dorian decided, laying his head on Bull’s chest.

“After over a year of spending almost every night together, _now_ you think we should share rooms?” Bull asked, a little amused. It wasn’t very nice to be making fun of someone who was intoxicated.

“Frankly, I would do better decorating than what you’ve got going on.” Dorian waved at the room at large.

“Most of your stuff is already here.”

“But not my bookshelves, ‘cause those books should _not_ be piled on the floor.”

“I’ll get your bookshelves up here tomorrow,” Bull chuckled.

“You spoil me.” Dorian shut his eyes, focusing on the rhythmic beat of Bull’s heart.

“You were already spoiled by the time I got to you, kadan.” Bull pressed a kiss to Dorian’s head.

“You _like_ spoiling me.”

“You’re right.”

“Aren’t I usually?”

“When you’re drunk, yes.”

“Rude.” Dorian leaned his head back to get another kiss from his Qunari. “I’m only tipsy.”

“You were loudly and proudly informing the entirety of the Inquisition how you won ‘Best Lover in Thedas because just _look_ at who fucks me every night’ while using rude hand gestures to indicate me and my girth,” Bull informed Dorian.

Dorian took a long moment to process those words. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be embarrassed or not.

“Is _that_ why you made Sera go ‘way?” Dorian asked, “We were having _fun_.”

“Yes, kadan.” Bull’s hands were rubbing hot circles on Dorian’s exposed shoulder. “I was trying to save you from yourself. Though, I liked hearing how you _really_ feel about me.”

“I’ve never lied to you!” Dorian was _definitely_ slurring now.

“No, but losing the filter was good for my self-esteem.”

“You already _have_ self-esteem.”

“Yeah, but now I have bragging rights that you’ve backed up.”

“I’m not drunk enough for this.” Dorian sat up and looked around, trying to spot if Bull had any alcohol hiding in the room.

“No, you’re not getting any more, kadan.”

“But, _amatus_…” Dorian was whining, but he didn’t care.

“Relax,” Bull said, soothingly, “I’ll get you some more when you wake up.”

“M’not sleepy.” Dorian flopped back against Bull’s chest. “You’re comfy.”

“You’re _always_ sleepy when you’re drunk, kadan,” Bull chuckled, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Dorian complained a bit more, but Bull ignored him, just rubbing soothing circles onto his skin. Eventually, though, the alcohol _did_ pull him into unconsciousness. That wasn’t the problem. Even the hangover wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that Dorian remembered _everything_.

Every lewd comment or suggestion he made to Herald’s Rest at large about his relationship with Bull (“I _love_ him, do you know that? He’s so _hot_, isn’t he?”) to every absurd place they’d fucked (“Leliana is _still_ mad that we upset the crows with all the screaming Bull was making me do.”) to the nearly poetic adoration of Bull’s physique (“His cock is bigger than my arm. It’s fucking _fantastic_!”). Dorian remembered _every single word_. And he knew those words were going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

He was still snuggled into a warm ball on Bull’s lap in the massive chair. Bull was yawning a jaw-cracking yawn and blinking sleep from his eye. Dorian figured it was too much to hope for his lover to _not_ say anything. He couldn’t leave it alone even if he wanted to.

“Morning, kadan.” Bull noticed Dorian was awake.

“It’s morning already?” Dorian’s voice was thick with the syrupy lining of alcohol. He cleared his throat.

“You slept hard.” Bull kissed Dorian’s head. “But, if you wanna sleep any more, we’ve gotta move to the bed.”

“Sorry.” Dorian winced, sliding off Bull’s lap and stretching gingerly. “You should’ve put us in bed.”

“Nah.” Bull took the opportunity to stretch himself. “You wouldn’t let me go.”

Dorian flushed, though he had no idea why. He’d done _way_ more embarrassing things with Bull.

“It was cute.” Bull grinned. “But I’m gonna need a pick-me-up or something if I’m gonna be able to walk today. This chair is awesome, kadan, but not the best place to sleep.”

“Get on the bed,” Dorian ordered, trying desperately to forget everything he had said and done the night before. He wasn’t succeeding in the slightest. Bull grinned.

“Kinky…”

“I’m going to give you a massage, idiot.” Dorian rolled his eyes.

“_Kinky_…” Bull tentatively got out of the chair and flopped face down onto the bed.

“You’re insatiable, amatus.” Dorian shook his head fondly.

“This is true,” Bull agreed, voice muffled by the pillow, “because I’m needy. And, you’re not.”

Dorian rolled his eyes again. Bull had spent the better part of his time since that fateful fuck in the library (and _no_, they hadn’t done it again, as much as they both enjoyed it) trying to convince Dorian that he _was_, in fact, needier than Dorian. So far, Bull had yet to attempt anything Dorian wasn’t interested in, or even ask for sex when Dorian wasn’t in the mood. So, Dorian considered it a tie.

“We both know _that’s_ a lie,” Dorian said, putting his hands on Bull’s ankle and letting the magic flow through his palms. Bull groaned into his pillow. Dorian took his time moving his hands over Bull’s body, letting his magic seep deep into the tissue of his back. Bull melted into a puddle of a Qunari, moaning the whole while. Dorian had to straddle Bull’s thighs to get a good position to get to the entirety of Bull’s back. Bull could _actually_ give a legitimate massage, but Dorian was learning the technique while using his magic to intensify the sensations.

“Kadaaaaannn…” Bull groaned, completely boneless.

“Feel better, amatus?” Dorian was a bit smug, as he usually was when he was able to pleasure Bull. Bull groaned wordlessly in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” Bull planted one hand on the bed and rolled over, grunting with the effort of moving. Dorian fell onto the bed and laughed. Bull shifted so he could get a good look at Dorian. He grinned, eye crinkling happily.

Dorian loved that look. Bull was more open with his emotions, so his smiles were a dime a dozen. Or so Dorian had originally thought. After careful examination (also known as obsession, because Dorian had a problem), Dorian discovered there were six distinct different smiles that his Qunari had. One was the Unamused Smirk. It was the one that Bull used when he wasn’t entertained in the slightest and was actually probably pissed about the situation. The second was the Amused Smirk. It was when Bull felt clever or that he had gotten the better of someone. The third was the Big Grin. It happened when Bull genuinely thought whatever had happened was funny. The fourth was the Fake Smile. Whenever Bull had to put on public appearances and be approachable, that smile came out. The fifth was the Genuine Smile. It occurred when Bull was just feeling happy. The sixth, and last, smile, was the one Dorian didn’t have a name for. He had only ever seen that smile when he and Bull were alone. The look was reserved for when Dorian had laughed or smiled first. Dorian wasn’t sure if it was Bull being amused by Dorian’s delight or if it was something deeper, more meaningful.

And it wasn’t like he could _ask_, because Bull would just say or do something ridiculous to change the subject. Still, it was Dorian’s favorite look on his Qunari.

“You’re adorable when you’re all smug,” Bull informed him.

“I am distractingly attractive.” Dorian sniffed, haughtily. “I’m not _adorable_.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

Bull’s face widened into the Big Grin as Dorian flushed.

“I’m not sure _what_ was said last night. I will _never_ drink with Sera again.”

“You’re such a liar, kadan.” Bull stole a lingering kiss. “And a bad one at that.”

“I refuse to acknowledge that last night even _happened_.” Dorian cleared his throat.

“You can live in denial all you want,” Bull chuckled, “but, I am _so_ bragging about it.”

“You are _not_!”

“I promised you I’d not reveal _any_ information about our relationship.” Bull kept stealing little kisses here and there and it was distracting. “But, now that _you’ve_ revealed things, I can freely go bragging about those things.”

“I didn’t reveal _anything_!”

“We both know that’s not true, kadan,” Bull chuckled.

Dorian brought his hands up to hide his face from the amused and knowing look from his lover.

“I was drunk. None of it counts,” he mumbled. Bull pulled his hands down to seal their mouths together in a long, lingering kiss.

“Don’t worry.” Bull touched his chin. “No one cares.”

“That somehow fails to make me feel better,” Dorian complained.

“Well, the only people who would dare tease you about it either weren’t there or are in this room.”

“Somehow I don’t think it missed Ellana’s notice what was said, even if she wasn’t there.” Dorian sighed.

“Well, if you want to avoid the entire Inquisition, I can think of several things that would occupy your time for a few days.” Bull was leering, which just succeeded in making Dorian laugh.

“I’m trying to decide if it would be better to face the music now or later.”

“Later,” Bull decided, “definitely later.”

“You’re just saying that because you want some.”

“I want _you_ to have some of this ‘amazing Qunari cock that was sent by Andraste herself to pleasure’ you,” Bull corrected. Dorian flushed.

“I didn’t say that!” He argued.

“Yes, you did,” Bull laughed, “followed up by an _extremely_ detailed description of said cock.”

“Why did you let me do that?” Dorian whined, less blaming and more just general complaining.

“I tried to get you to shut up three times.” Bull shook his head. He was wearing his Genuine Smile. It made Dorian want to smile back. “But, you kept getting louder every time I tried to step in. Finally, I figured if I got rid of Sera, you’d pay enough attention to me for me to get you out of there.”

“How long?”

“Only about five minutes.”

“_Fasta vass_, I’m an idiot.”

“You’re fine, kadan.” If Bull kept kissing him, Dorian would seriously consider the “hiding in the room for a few days” plan. “Sera said _way_ worse than you. _And__,_ she was louder.”

“What could be worse than describing, in detail, how much I enjoy getting fucked on the war table?” Dorian groaned.

“Trust me.” Bull widened his eye. “It was _worse_.”

“What did she say?” Dorian _had_ to know, now.

“No. If you don’t want people talking about _you_, you shouldn’t go around talking about others.” Bull _tsk_ed, lightly.

“I’m a Tevinter mage in a relationship with a former Ben-Hassrath Qunari.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “_Everyone_ talks about me no matter _what_ I do. What did Sera _say_?”

“Let’s just say it was inappropriate.”

“You impossible man.”

Bull kissed him again, which was just not playing fair at all.

Not that it mattered, since Krem came knocking, reminding Bull about the training session he and Cullen had planned with the Chargers and the Inquisition soldiers.

“Stay right here,” Bull insisted, running his hands over Dorian in _all_ the right ways, which was irritating since he was _leaving_, “I’ll be back.”

“I can’t stay here _all day_,” Dorian complained, arching into Bull’s touch. Bull trailed his lips down Dorian’s neck.

“Yes, you can,” he murmured. Dorian swallowed and tried _not_ to get aroused.

“I’ve got… things…”

“If you stay here, I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

And Dorian’s mind went to all sorts of inappropriate places, which was _exactly_ what Bull intended.

“If you leave me like this…” Dorian growled.

“I’ve got a great idea for later.” Bull was _still_ letting his lips trail over Dorian’s collarbone and neck and to that sensitive spot behind his ear… “But you have to stay here to get it.”

“I hate you,” Dorian breathed out.

“I know.” Bull’s lips smiled against Dorian’s skin. Bull pulled back and Dorian glowered at him.

“What happens if I don’t stay here?” He asked, watching Bull readjust his clothes and make sure he had everything he needed.

“You don’t like pain, but there are _all_ sorts of non-painful punishments I can dish out, kadan.”

Okay, so Dorian’s mind went back into the gutter and based on Bull’s smirk, he knew it.

“What am I supposed to _do_ all day?” Dorian whined as Bull made his way to the door.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Bull grinned, opening the door on Krem’s bright red features. “You’re clever.”

“Fuck you.”

“Later.” Bull pulled the door shut behind him with a smirk.

Dorian collapsed on the bed, hard and wanting and _irritated_.

“I hate that man,” he said to the room at large. It was a blatant lie, but it made him feel better.


	21. Bad News

It took three straight months of planning and negotiations and Ellana had _finally_ decided that the Inquisition was prepared for the Exalted Council. Dorian scoffed at the name. It was as sanctimonious as only the Chantry could be. Dorian might have been Andrastian (though the knowledge that the elven gods existed was just…_ weird_), but he hated how self-righteous people who claimed to be religious were. The Chantry was as bad as Tevinter in some ways, though they’d _never_ listen to that logic, no matter how rational it was.

Ellana had been dealing with all sorts of stupid people who thought they could get in with the Inquisition either to spy for the Exalted Council or because they wanted to curry favor before the entire Inquisition was dissolved. Dorian tried to help her maintain her demeanor, even with all the idiotic things that were being said. No one knew _what_ the Exalted Council was going to do, but Ellana had strong guesses.

“I always wondered how the Inquisition was so successful with how… _distasteful_ your allies are.” The Orlesian man was a moron. Ellana was settled calmly in her seat, face blank as she listened to him prattle on. Most of the inner circle were lingering there. They had been instrumental in helping Ellana with the planning and negotiations.

“I apologize, for I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning,” Ellana replied, politely. The man didn’t even hesitate, which was just showcasing how stupid he was.

“The Inquisition has allied itself with the Tevinter Imperium _and_ the Qunari,” he continued, “it’s no wonder the Exalted Council wishes to dissolve your powers with such _questionable_ tastes in friends.”

“I must apologize again.” Ellana’s face remained blank. Dorian could tell she was _furious_. “For I believe there’s been a misunderstanding here. The Inquisition has no such alliance with the Tevinter Imperium. In fact, the Inquisition has been instrumental in routing a particularly violent faction of Tevinter from Orlais and Ferelden. There _was_ an attempt at an alliance with the Qunari, but that failed because the terms were not agreeable to the Inquisition. So, when you say I have them as allies, I have no idea what you mean.”

“I mean the Qunari and the magister right there,” the man snapped, impatiently, gesturing to Dorian and Bull.

“Well, you must be mistaken.” Ellana smiled at him. “The Iron Bull is a Tal-Vashoth mercenary, no longer part of the Qun, and the leader of Bull’s Chargers; I’m _sure_ you’ve heard of them. And Dorian Pavus is not a magister. A mage, yes, but he denounced his role in the Magisterium. Do you also have a distaste for Dalish? I have not spent any significant time with _any_ Dalish tribe in nearly three years. What about dwarves? Varric Tethras is one of the deshyrs of the Dwarven Merchant Guild. I would not make an enemy of him, no matter your… _distaste_ of dwarves.”

“You mock me.” The man scowled.

“I do, indeed.” Ellana’s face lost the smile, remaining blank. “You have been misinformed, ser, if you think the Inquisition has made allies with the Tevinter Imperium or the Qunari. If I were able to make _both_ groups my allies, then I would somehow have the ability to end the centuries-long war between them.”

“I–”

“You have come to the Inquisition, offering your services to assist in the Exalted Council that is to occur in the near future,” Ellana interrupted, “and you managed to walk in and insult the individuals who saved my life on multiple occasions, the same individuals who helped save _the world_, who are also my personal friends. And you did this to try to prove… what exactly? That you’re _better_ than my current allies?”

The man opened and closed his mouth several times as he struggled to find the appropriate words to speak.

“No, ser, I will _not_ be accepting you into the Inquisition. Regardless of the future of this institution, I would not be accepting you in our ranks. You have shown a disturbingly large amount of disrespect for not only the Inquisition itself but also the members of the Inquisition. Given the frequency with which we interact with and encounter people from a variety of places and cultures, I cannot have _any_ disrespect in my ranks.”

He kept opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

“You are welcome to refresh yourself here. We have plenty of comfortable rooms which I’m sure you will find amendable to your… delicate sensibilities. We have an abundance of hot food, so you won’t have to go anywhere hungry. When you are rested enough, I have several mounts that you might borrow to help you get home. If there’s anything else you might need during your _brief_ stay here at Skyhold, do not hesitate to ask Lady Montilyet. That is, assuming speaking with an Antivan doesn’t offend you.”

“Inquisitor!” The man _finally_ found his voice. “You have no right to insult me!”

“On the contrary–” Ellana stood up, signaling the end of the conversation, “–you’ve insulted me, my Inquisition, and my friends. I have _every_ right to insult you.”

“Inquisitor!”

Ellana left her throne (which she hated calling it, but no one had a better name for it) and passed the man by, completely ignoring his protests. Dorian watched her get almost all the way out of the hall before the man lost it.

“Fucking bitch!”

Ellana froze, mid-step. She turned to acknowledge the red-faced and furious man trying to push past the guards. She made a small hand motion and the guards released him to storm up to her.

“Now, listen here, you little bitch–”

“No.” Ellana’s calm demeanor was just upsetting him more. “_You_ listen here, you little bitch.” He jerked back like he had been slapped. “When I’m up there, in that seat of judgment, I am the Inquisitor. I cannot speak for myself. I speak on behalf of the respect and trust of the entirety of the Inquisition’s forces. If you approach me here, _now_, know that I am merely Ellana. And Ellana is _not_ polite or restrained.”

“I don’t care _what_ your excuses are! You can’t just _dismiss_ me out of hand because of some fucking _foreigners_!”

“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten,” Ellana replied, dryly, “but, we’re technically in Ferelden right now. _You’re_ a foreigner here, too.”

“Do you even _know_ who I am?!” He grabbed her arm, tightly. The entire room froze. The guards only managed to not move by the calming hand Ellana held up. It was a near thing though, as every person in proximity to the moron was ready to tackle him to the ground.

“I’m going to give you this warning once: if you do not release me, you _will_ regret it. Let go.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, fucking knife-ear whore!” The man snarled.

“Guardsman Stefan, you have heard my verbal warning, correct?” Ellana asked, ignoring the man holding her arm to look at the head of her personal guard at Skyhold. (Cullen wanted it himself, but Ellana convinced him that he had enough on his plate to be doing something as simple and silly as guarding her.)

“I heard, my lady Inquisitor.” Stefan was built like a human bear and was just as intimidating. Still, he stayed back from the grapple, but only because Ellana hadn’t given him permission to come closer.

“I’m not afraid of _you_. Your precious little Inquisition is going to crumble down and then you’ll be _nothing_.”

“The Inquisition and Skyhold can be dismantled brick by brick and I’ll _still_ be more than _you_.” Ellana turned fierce eyes on the man. “I might be only a knife-ear, but at least I’m not a misogynistic, racist pig who can’t convince someone in power to like him enough to let him join a failing group. How you managed to convince the empress that you were important enough to send my way is a mystery to us all.”

The man flushed bright red.

“Ah, so Empress Celene _didn’t_ send you, like you said,” Ellana chuckled, “what a shame. I was rather hoping you’d pull out the empress card so I could slap that down, too. I _gave_ Celene her throne. She’s indebted to me, and she well knows it. So, I won’t face _any_ repercussions for this.”

“For… what?” The man blinked.

“If you’ll look down for a moment…” Ellana smiled. “You’ll notice I have a knife buried in your balls.”

He noticed, because he instantly released his grip on her arm.

“That’s what I thought.” Ellana was completely unamused. “You come into _my_ house, you insult_ my family_, and you _spit_ on my generosity in allowing you a place to stay, food to eat, and _mounts_ to get home again. Now, you have one opportunity, and _one_ opportunity only, to convince me that you _don’t_ need to be singing soprano for the rest of your miserable life.”

The man spluttered, trying to find _words_, much less ones that made any coherent sense.

“Never mind.” Ellana stepped back and sheathed her knife. “You’re not worth the effort of cleaning your blood from the floor. Guardsmen!” Ellana gestured towards the man, who was promptly grabbed by three different guards. “Find him a nice comfy place to cool down in our dungeon.”

“_What_?!” The man struggled in their grip. “You can’t _do_ this!”

“You just assaulted the Inquisitor in her main hall in front of a hundred witnesses,” Josephine spoke, for the first time. She, too, was calm. “You’ve quite severely harmed your own reputation beyond repair. We might not have the clout we had before, but the noble families of Thedas still honor our judgment. Be grateful the Inquisitor isn’t having you killed for your insolence, ser.”

The man was dragged from the hall and the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Ell, you’re absolutely batshit,” Dorian informed her, walking up to see if she was all right.

“He was insulting you.” Ellana shrugged. “I didn’t stand it from my own soldiers, why would I stand it from some Orlesian _idiot_?”

“Because I’m not that important,” Dorian argued, “insults to me can be ignored for the benefit of the Inquisition.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Ellana smiled at him. “The Inquisition is stronger than any other country in Thedas, and every other country _knows_ it. That’s why they want the Exalted Council so badly. They want to either destroy what we have or make us their servants.”

“Are they going to succeed, milady?” The crowd was still listening, and someone had thrown their voice into the conversation. Ellana glanced around, but focused back on Dorian.

“They don’t realize that our strength is in our diversity. We have people from all over the world, from all different cultures and races and backgrounds, and we are _strong because of that_. We became united for the purpose of saving the world and we succeeded. _Nobody_ can take that away from us. We are all connected in this. And no Exalted Council can destroy that.”

Dorian couldn’t help the small smile.

“What are we going to do, milady?” Someone else asked.

“We are going to live on our own terms,” Ellana announced, “my inner circle has been working tirelessly with me to ensure that no member of the Inquisition will be abandoned, no matter _what_ the Exalted Council decides.”

People whispered and muttered to each other, responding positively to Ellana’s declaration.

“Now, get back to work!” Ellana waved all the eavesdroppers away. She turned back to Dorian. “Dor, you’re the Tevinter Imperium’s ambassador to the Inquisition. I _cannot_ allow anyone to insult you from a purely political perspective.”

“You’re _not_ political,” Dorian reminded her.

“Okay, I didn’t do it for that.” Ellana rolled her eyes, already more expressive than she was when dealing with the Orlesian idiot. “I did it because you’re my family, and I don’t _let_ people insult my family. So, shut up.”

“Yes, milady.” Dorian grinned. Ellana punched him lightly and then hugged him tightly.

“We’re going to make it through this bullshit,” she promised him, “if I have to go back into the Fade to do it.”

“Please don’t.” Dorian eyed the way she flexed her hand. She’d been struggling with the Anchor more and more as time went on. She never said anything, but Dorian could see how much it hurt her. “I’d have to go in the help you and I’d like to _not_ have a repeat of Adamant Fortress.”

“Oh, _fine_.” Ellana took the teasing with a grin. Dorian couldn’t imagine what she was going through. “What do you have for me?”

“Well, I’ve managed to coerce a few stubborn circles to accept everyone I hadn’t gotten a placement for before. So, all the mages are taken care of.” Dorian looked over the list he had brought to her. “And it’s to the specifications you gave me. Several of the mages we have are pretty sensitive to circles, but Fiona has been talking about trying to start a College of Magi to try to push for reforms within the circles themselves, so I think everyone should be, at the very least, taken care of, if not happy.”

“Good.” Ellana looked over the list, carefully. “With all this Exalted Council crap, we won’t be able to keep them from circles anymore, but they should be allowed the opportunity to stand up for their beliefs.”

“Believe it or not, a few mages showed significant interest in Tevinter as a different option.” Dorian shrugged. “I made a few inquiries and gotten a few positions, but the majority all want to stay together. It took some brow-beating and Vivienne’s assistance to manage _that_.”

“Yeah, no circle wants to have a mass of mages who tried to revolt,” Ellana agreed, “but, as long as everyone has a place to live and survive after this…”

“It’s taken care of.” Dorian nodded. “Finally.”

“Well, everyone else was easier.” Ellana shrugged. “Templars and soldiers and servants can go anywhere.”

“True enough.” Dorian looked her over again, taking in her clenched jaw. “Is there _anything_ I can do to…?” He gestured wordlessly at her arm. Ellana shook her head with a tight smile.

“It’s fine, Dor.”

“Liar.”

“It’ll _be_ fine,” Ellana corrected, “better?”

“As long as you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.” She took a deep breath. “Only a couple weeks until the Exalted Council.”

“We’re prepared,” Dorian assured her.

“Well, we have no choice,” Ellana chuckled, humorlessly, “either the Inquisition will be dissolved or we’ll have so much oversight we won’t _be_ the Inquisition anymore.”

“Don’t worry, Ell.” Dorian smiled at her. “After all, a certain templar commander has been awfully secretive about what he’s gotten for you.”

“Wait.” Ellana froze. “He’s gotten something for me? What is it? Why?”

“I have only guesses.” Dorian was a bit smug, but he didn’t care. “And I’m sure the commander would be quite put out if I verbalized any of them.”

“Dorian!” Ellana whined. Well, at least she was smiling again. She’d been running the Inquisition for nearly three years and never lost her sense of humor, but the knowledge that she was responsible for all of her followers had taken its toll on her in recent months. Not even Cullen could help pull her out of her solemnity.

“I’ve said too much.” Dorian sighed, melodramatically. “I do hope I haven’t ruined Cullen’s surprise.”

“Dorian! What did he get?!”

“Why don’t you ask _him_?” Dorian grinned.

“Fine!” Ellana turned on her heel and ran off, looking for her lover. Dorian chuckled.

“Ambassador Pavus?” Dorian turned to acknowledge the messenger. He was quite obviously from Tevinter just based on his clothes alone. He also stood stiffly, like he didn’t feel like he belonged in the room. Which, to be perfectly fair, he didn’t.

“Yes?” Dorian quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I have a message from the Magisterium for you, my lord ambassador.”

Dorian’s blood went cold.

He accepted the sealed letter from the messenger, blankly.

“Will you be requiring a response?” Dorian asked. Somehow, his voice didn’t sound like he was frozen or terrified.

“No, my lord ambassador.” The messenger bowed his head. “I shall be returning to Minrathous immediately.”

“Thank you,” Dorian said, politely. The messenger bowed again and disappeared from Dorian’s sight. Dorian just looked at the seal on the letter. He couldn’t move. The throng of people in the main hall moved around him, not noticing him at all.

“Kadan, are you all right?” Bull’s voice pulled Dorian’s vision from the wax seal. “What’s that?”

“That’s the seal of the Archon of the Magisterium.” Dorian’s voice sounded bland. “Something’s happened.” Bull put an arm around Dorian’s shoulders and eased him from the main hall, trying to get him some privacy. Dorian didn’t realize he had been taken up to his little nook in the library until Bull settled him in his chair.

“Do you want me to read it, kadan?” Bull asked, softly. Dorian shook his head. He didn’t make a move to open the letter, though. Bull’s warm hands touched his cold ones, halting his trembling. Dorian took a deep breath and broke the seal, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding that filled him. The message was short and to the point.

“My father is dead.”

“Oh, kadan…”

“I’m still his heir.”

“What?”

Dorian looked up at Bull, finally meeting his gaze.

“I’m a magister now.”


	22. We Need To Talk

“What do you mean ‘you’re leaving’?”

Dorian was crying. Over the death of his father (he didn’t even know he still _felt_ things for the man), over the ending of the closest thing to home he’d ever had, over the fact that there was only one option left to him and it meant ripping his heart apart. He had gotten a second missive from one of his friends still in Tevinter, explaining the entire situation leading to his father’s death, and Dorian realized he didn’t really have a choice. He had to go home.

“I mean,” Dorian was trying _not_ to fight with Bull, “My father was assassinated. He kept me as his heir to his seat to the Magisterium. I have inherited that seat and am now a magister. Magisters have responsibilities in Tevinter. There are meetings and votes and politics. I have to go to Minrathous to formally be seated. Then I have to go settle my father’s estate in Qarinus.”

“Okay.” Bull took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had helped Dorian back to their room to keep others from seeing the heartbreak Dorian was going through. It was there when Dorian told Bull that he had to leave. “How long will that take?”

Dorian felt his heart break all over again.

“Amatus, I am a magister now.” He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. “I have to stay in Tevinter most of the time.”

Bull nodded slowly, eye unfocused and brow furrowed as he took in that information.

“So, what should we do about me?” He asked, “I can’t hide that I’m Qunari, even _if_ I didn’t have horns.”

Dorian’s brain caught up with the implications and the shattered remains of his heart stuttered to a stop.

“No, you _can’t_ come with me.” Dorian was begging and he felt utterly pathetic.

“I’m not letting you walk into that viper pit _alone_.” Bull frowned, looking at Dorian sharply. “I know _exactly_ what horrors wait you there.”

“I won’t be able to keep you safe, amatus.” Dorian shook his head.

“This isn’t about _me_, kadan.” Bull stepped forward and touched Dorian’s face. “Tevinter tried to destroy you. You can’t go back there alone. I won’t let you.”

“There’s no other option.” Dorian shook his head. “I still have friends in Minrathous. I won’t be alone.”

“What about us?” Bull asked. His face contorted in pain for a moment before he schooled his features. Dorian hated that Bull felt like he had to hide himself. He felt like an ass.

“I can travel to Orlais every few months or so.” Dorian’s voice was thick.

“You’re leaving this.” Bull’s chest heaved with some unnamed emotion. He took a few unsteady steps back from Dorian.

“I _have_ to go back.” Dorian tried to explain, trying to see through his tears.

“You told me you would _never_ leave me.” Bull’s voice sounded angry. Dorian flinched like he had been hit.

“I might be physically separated from you, amatus,” Dorian swore, “but, I will _never_ leave you.”

“Kadan, you’re telling me that you’re _walking away_ from _everything_ to go back to a place that tried to _destroy_ you in every possible way and that _I can’t go with you?!_”

“It’s too dangerous, amatus.” Dorian was so exhausted from the argument and his head throbbed, but this was one thing he couldn’t give in on. He would _not_ put Bull in danger. He _couldn’t_.

“I am a Tal-Vashoth mercenary,” Bull reminded him, “my life _is_ danger.”

“Not _this_ kind of danger,” Dorian argued, “no magister could get away with hosting a Qunari in Minrathous, not even one who was well-respected and liked, which I’m not.”

“What about as a slave?” Bull suggested, “I’m a former spy. Pretending is my life.”

“Is that what you _want_?” Dorian snapped, “To be seen as less than and treated like trash while we’re in Tevinter? If _anything_ improper were to happen around you, I’d be forced to punish you just to save face. I can’t do it, amatus. _You_ might be able to handle that, but _I_ certainly can’t. You’re my _amatus_. How am I supposed to _do_ that to you?”

“If we want to be together and _you_ want to be in Tevinter, that’s our only option, kadan,” Bull pointed out.

“As you’re so fond of telling me, I’m a horrible liar,” Dorian reminded him, “there’s _no way_ I’d be able to convince _anyone_ that you’re anything less than my amatus. And people will know. You’ll be targeted by every idiot who wants to take a shot at me. And, considering my father was _murdered_ for some of the shit I’m trying to accomplish, there’ll be _no_ shortage of people trying to kill you to get to me.”

“All the more reason for me to be there with you!” Bull argued, “I’m a former spy. I know _exactly_ how assassinations go down! I can _help_ you, kadan.”

“Amatus, I can’t keep you safe in Tevinter.” Dorian couldn’t stop the frustrated tears from leaking as his throat closed up. “And I can’t watch you die.” His voice broke on the last word.

“I don’t need to be kept safe,” Bull argued, though his voice was a bit gentler, “Why do you even _want_ to go back there? Everything about that place tried to destroy _who you are_.”

“Because there are others. Other people who have to suffer the way I did. Because my country _can_ be fixed. Because someone murdered my father for _daring_ to think and act outside the lines and if I don’t _do_ anything, they’ll win.”

“You would rather go back to _that_… mess, back to the Game, which I _know_ you hate, than stay with me?” Bull’s voice was starting to crack. Dorian kept crying, trying to fight past the tears.

“I’m not a mercenary,” Dorian pointed out, “I’m not a Charger. And, how would that work? You’d hold my safety over anyone else and over whatever job you had. That’s not good business. You’re the Iron Bull, leading Bull’s Chargers, the best mercenary band in southern Thedas. Who am I? I’m… a magister. Who else am I?”

“You’re my kadan.” Bull took Dorian’s face in his hands. “You’re Dorian Pavus. You’re so gentle and kind and thoughtful and your country is going to _destroy_ you. It already tried once. It almost succeeded. Don’t give it a second chance.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Dorian murmured.

“Yes, you do.”

“If I don’t go, Tevinter will _always_ be as corrupt and horrible as it is now.” Dorian shook his head. “I can fix it. I know I can.”

“Not alone.”

“I’m never alone anymore.” Dorian pulled Bull’s head down to press their foreheads together. “No matter where I am, you’re always with me.”

“Remember when we were in the Fade and I told you to get out first?” Bull whispered. Dorian hummed in acknowledgment. “You said that you didn’t know if you could forgive me for that.”

“I remember.”

“Back at’cha, kadan.”

“I know.” Dorian took a deep shuddering breath. He had to continue before he lost his nerve. “If you want to… end this…”

“Don’t go there.”

“Please, just tell me,” Dorian finished, pulling back to look at Bull’s face, “I won’t hold it against you. I just… need to know.”

“You’re my kadan,” Bull replied, gruffly, “that can’t be taken back. We agreed: we’re stuck with each other until we die.”

“If you need to have… someone else–” The words were poison on Dorian’s tongue, “–I… understand that need.”

“Okay, we need to be perfectly clear on some things _right fucking now_.” Bull looked into Dorian’s eyes, solemnly. “If this is what you feel like you have to do, fine. I hate that you won’t let me come with you, but I get it. But we’re stuck together, kadan. And the first thing we agreed on was that we’re monogamous. I don’t care how far away you go, I’m not fucking around.”

Dorian almost burst into tears again. It wasn’t _fair_ how perfect Bull was. He breathed deeply and touched their foreheads together again.

“I have something for you, amatus,” he muttered.

“Were you waiting to see if I’d leave you before giving it to me?” Bull teased lightly, but it fell a bit flat.

“I’ve had it for a while now,” Dorian admitted, “I don’t know why I haven’t given it to you by now.”

Bull stole another kiss which felt far too much like coming home. Dorian managed to wrest himself from Bull’s grasp (not an easy feat on the best of days and even worse when they just had a fight) and dug through one of the dressers Bull had brought up when he moved in. When he turned around, Bull was leaning on his chair, watching him patiently. The sight was so pleasant that Dorian just wanted to watch him for a while.

“Kadan?”

“Sorry.” Dorian shook his head and handed over the half of a dragon’s tooth. Bull’s entire form completely froze, staring at the unoffending necklace like it was going to explode. His eye flickered to Dorian’s hands, where the other half of the tooth sat. He didn’t say anything though. And it was driving Dorian mad. “It’s not a big surprise, amatus. I mean, we’ve been together nearly two years.”

“Yeah, but…” Bull finally looked at him. “How’d you know?”

“Krem.”

“How’d _he_ know?”

“No idea.” Dorian shrugged. “Frankly, I wasn’t sure if he was even accurate, but I figured he couldn’t be too far off.”

“How long have you had this?” Bull asked.

“Remember the Highland Ravager?”

“In Emprise du Lion.” Bull nodded. “That was a while ago, kadan.”

“Hence why I’ve been holding onto it for so long,” Dorian pointed out, “we had hardly been together long enough to justify such a gift.”

“So, why’d you keep the tooth?”

“Because…”

Bull grinned as Dorian faltered.

“You’ve been in love with me a long time, kadan.”

“Oh, shut up.” Dorian felt himself flush, which was just ridiculous, considering how long he’d been with Bull (at this point, he just assumed he lost all sense of shame).

“I’m still upset about this whole returning to Tevinter thing,” Bull pointed out, clasping the necklace around his neck. Dorian couldn’t figure out what to pay attention to: his pride and joy at having Bull wear that damn tooth or the hurt and frustration at Bull’s words. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“We will?”

“We will.” Bull took Dorian’s half of the tooth and secured it around his neck with a small smile. “After all, you’ve just tied us together in the only way the Qunari know how.”

“Are you saying we’re Qunari married?”

“Qunari don’t have marriage,” Bull reminded him, “but, this is the closest thing to it.”

“So…?”

“Yes, we’re Qunari married.”

“Oh.”

Bull laughed and pulled Dorian into a scorching kiss that left him breathless.

“We’re going to survive this,” Bull promised, “even if I have to go into Tevinter and drag you home myself.”

“I’ll _be_ home,” Dorian pointed out, “Tevinter is where I was born and raised.”

“Home is where the heart is,” Bull reminded him, “so, if I’m not there, it’s not home.”

Dorian couldn’t help the exasperated and fond smile.

“Of course.”

“Since we’re Qunari married now, and you’re leaving soon, we should probably have a honeymoon,” Bull said, thoughtfully.

“We can’t _go_ anywhere, amatus.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “We’ve got the Exalted Council and–”

“I mean the sex part, kadan.”

“We’ve got things to do right now,” Dorian argued, “I’ve got to get things settled so I can return to Tevinter and I have to send a message to my mother. Not least of which is I have to get my hands on some sending crystals, which is _not_ easy to do, and _that’s_ going to take some time, because if we’re going to be separated, I sure as shit am _not_ doing it without any form of communication with you, besides which–”

Bull _really_ shouldn’t have been as persuasive with his kisses as he was.

It was hours later, when both of them were deliciously naked and sprawled in a sweaty heap over the bed, that Dorian realized he’d been manipulated again.

“You’re impossible,” he informed his lover with a contented sigh.

“You love it,” Bull chuckled.

“That’s entirely beside the point,” Dorian complained, “I have _things to do_.”

“And those things involves you, me, and our cocks, with a few orifices thrown in there.”

“You don’t think we’ve done _enough_ with our cocks and orifices?”

“Nope.”

Dorian lifted his head to look at Bull, judging how serious he was. (He was _completely_ serious.)

“Hey, kadan, what’s a sending crystal?”

Dorian tried to figure out the non sequitur and just got a headache.

“A sending crystal is this stone, it looks like a ruby, and it can be used to communicate with a matching stone instantly,” Dorian explained, “if you’re in Val Royeaux and I’m in Minrathous, we will be able to have a conversation with the sending crystals like we’re in the same room.”

“Wait, _seriously_?” Bull blinked. “No magic, right?”

“I’m not entirely sure the origins of said crystals, though I assume, based on my country’s uncanny ability to pilfer ideas and artifacts from elves, it’s probably an elven relic. Yes, it’s a magical artifact, but it doesn’t require any form of magic to use.”

“So, I just talk to the stone and you answer?” Bull looked both intrigued by the possibility and also unconvinced that it was _actually_ a thing. “Why isn’t this everywhere?”

“Because there’s only a handful of pairs of them that anyone has ever found.” Dorian sighed. “They have a sigil inscribed on them to show which crystals go together. And they’re not well-advertised. Most sending crystals that have been found don’t have a matching pair. You have to have a _lot_ of influence or power to be able to get a matching pair.”

“So, how are we going to get them?” Bull asked.

“Well, my father has one.” Dorian paused. “_Had_ one. It’ll be in his personal effects. My mother will send it to me without question, since I’m the new head of our house. So, I only have to find the match.”

“Where do we look?”

Dorian looked over Bull for a long moment.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, “I’ll have to do some research on the sigil on the one my father has. Plus, I’m not entirely sure how the stones themselves work, so I have to figure that out, as well.”

“Well, I’m pretty big and threatening. Let me know who I need to persuade to give us the matching pair.”

“People won’t just _give up_ a sending crystal!”

“They will if I’m there.”

“You’re Qunari.”

“I’m big and have an even bigger axe. People give me what I want.”

“And you say _I’m_ spoiled.”

“I never said I wasn’t.” Bull grinned, his hands running down Dorian’s body to reach interesting places. “You spoil me, kadan.”

“I thought _you_ were spoiling _me_.”

“Who said we can’t do both?”

“You’re not tired yet?” Dorian chuckled at the roaming hands.

“I’m not going to have you every single time I feel like it anymore.” Bull shrugged. “I gotta get it while I can.”

“You’re impossi–”

Bull was _very_ persuasive when he wanted to be.


	23. Going Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for leaving everyone hanging for a month! My son has been in and out of the hospital, which doesn't make for a whole lot of writing time. He's feeling much better, so hopefully, I'll have time to get more chapters out on this. I've got things planned from here through Trespasser and into the epilogue, so there's plenty more to go!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support and kind words!

Dorian had no choice but to return to Tevinter to help settle his father’s estate. Bull escorted him all the way to the border, refusing to listen to any argument that Dorian made that he was grown adult and could travel to his home country by _himself_, thank you very much. Once he was in the country, it was all too easy to slip on that familiar mask of cool indifference. It was the one he had tried to affect in the Inquisition but Ellana never let him get away with it. He’d been home a few times since the Inquisition had killed Corypheus, but he had kept him busy as much as possible to avoid having to interact with his father at all. Still, they had remained civil.

Aquinea Thalrassian was waiting for him at the Pavus estate in Qarinus. She was dressed in mourning black, her poise and makeup perfect in every way. Dorian wondered why she was even there. She spent most of her time at the family manor in Minrathous just to stay away from his father. Whenever he was to be in attendance at the Magisterium, they had to cohabitate, but they had separate rooms on opposite ends of the house for precisely such occasions. There were a few obligatory social appearances they had to make together, but it was well known in the community that Halward and Aquinea loathed each other. It was the biggest argument Dorian used to try to justify his homosexuality to his parents.

That conversation had not gone well.

Dorian knew better than to dredge up that unfortunate moment in their past when they were to be in mourning. Especially because his mother would pretend that it had never happened or that she had forgotten all about it and _“why bring up bad memories when your father has only just died?”_

It was better just to avoid the whole situation entirely. Once the estate was settled, Dorian was certain she’d keep up her habits of living in Minrathous, only now she wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with Halward every time the Magisterium met.

The funeral had already been handled by his mother, so at the very least, Dorian didn’t have to do anything with that. He wore the clothes she had purchased for him (though he got his taste from her, so he couldn’t find any fault with the fashion she had chosen), held her arm in the supporting child role he was supposed to have, and tried to keep himself from remembering _any_ of the ordeal. He made all the polite sounds when people offered the condolences and sympathies, which appeased his mother.

Then it took two frustrating weeks of paperwork for Dorian to finally get all his father’s affairs in order. Two weeks of going through page after page of his father’s notes and personal effects. Two weeks of meeting with magister after magister to congratulate him on his new position while also commiserating with him on the death of Halward Pavus. Two weeks of keeping himself locked away behind his mask to keep his mother happy. Two weeks of not being able to see or speak to Bull.

It was agony.

He’d spent time in Tevinter, but never that long. All his affairs were typically conducted by letter and when he was required to be present for something, he managed to get everything done in a few days. Two weeks was awful.

And he was planning on coming right back permanently.

Because as horrible as handling his father’s estate was, and as awful as it was to have to pretend for his mother, and as agonizing as it was for him to not be near his lover, Dorian still loved his country. Tevinter was a beautiful and wondrous place. It had its faults, true enough (Dorian would be the first to point them out), but it was also extraordinary. Learning and innovation had thrived in a community where magic was allowed to explore. Dorian himself had helped discover and manipulate _time magic_. The sheer love of knowledge in Tevinter pushed it miles beyond the thinking of the rest of Thedas. (Though the rest of Thedas was less judgmental about social issues.)

And, frankly, Tevinter wasn’t the only country with faults. Par Vollen had the Qun (which, while not technically a bad thing, still freaked most people out), Antiva had the whole assassination thing, Rivain was just a load of pirates everywhere, Ferelden didn’t have slaves, but they forced their elves into impoverished and disease-ridden slums (and they had the whole thing with the dogs), and Dorian wasn’t even going to _think_ about Orlais.

Still, two weeks was enough for Dorian to realize that he needed to establish himself as the quirky, eccentric, pariah magister he was destined to be sooner rather than later. He didn’t want to have to fight against an acceptable and polite image of someone who he most definitely _was not_. And he _especially_ didn’t want to have to fend off marriage offers from the other noble families. He had an arranged marriage once before and he’d die before he suffered that humiliation again.

The most important thing he found in his father’s effects was a pair of sending crystals. Dorian had been under the impression that his father only had the one, but it seemed like he had managed to get his hands on the other one. The box they were in was labelled with Dorian’s name. Dorian teared up at that bit, but he managed to keep himself calm. There wasn’t a note or anything, but one of Halward’s journals detailed that he’d finally found a way to keep in better touch with his son. The crystals were a dark red and small enough that Halward had gotten them fitted into a pair of necklaces. Whatever their issues had been, his father had been determined to try to make things right.

That particular discovery made Dorian’s job of going through his father’s belongings much more difficult.

Dorian’s mother found him when he had been home for nearly a fortnight. She hadn’t been avoiding him, but she made no effort to spend any time with him while he was there. Dorian assumed she was busy making her own arrangements for dealing with his father’s death.

“Dorian, you’ve received a missive from the Magisterium and a package from Magister Maevaris.” Aquinea was tall and statuesque, though those features weren’t her most valuable assets. Her magic, strong enough to match Halward, spoke volumes beyond her well-aged beauty. She kept her dark hair long in a braid that hung over her shoulder. Occasionally, she’d pin the braid up in a thick bun, but Dorian couldn’t remember her ever letting her hair hang free.

“Thank you, Mother,” Dorian said, politely. He tried to keep his attitude in check around her out of respect. And fear. He knew _exactly_ what she was capable of, and no matter how long he’d been living away from home or how long he’d been an adult, he would always fear his mother. Still, she had always been focused on propriety. Dorian was now a magister, though she held her own seat. Therefore, they were equals and since Dorian had returned home, she had been treating him as such. It was a surprise, and an altogether pleasant one, since Dorian was in no hurry to be berated or parented by anyone, much less his mother.

“It’s urgent.” Aquinea lingered on the other side of the desk, obviously waiting to have Dorian read the missive immediately. Dorian obliged her, appreciating the succinctness of the writ, appointing him as the Tevinter Ambassador to the Exalted Council as a reward for his “interest in the South”. It was a little humorous, considering he was already the Tevinter ambassador to the Inquisition, but he didn’t dare laugh. His mother might actually kill him.

“Ah, so I’m to head to Halamshiral. If I leave tomorrow, I’ll be able to make the Exalted Council in time,” Dorian noted out loud, mostly to please his mother, “it seems I have to pack.”

“Your father fought for this for you,” Aquinea spoke softly, but the words startled Dorian nonetheless, “he was the one who got you the original appointment of ambassador. Before he died, he was critical in getting you this appointment.”

“Why?” Dorian asked, wishing, not for the first time in his life, that he could read his mother’s dark eyes. She’d always been an enigma, a blank façade of politeness that Dorian had never been able to emulate.

“He wanted you to be safe.” Aquinea paused, looking over Dorian’s shoulder without seeing for a long moment. “He thought that being away from Tevinter was in your best interests.”

Well, Dorian had to agree with his father on that one. As much as he loved Tevinter and being home, Bull had been right in his assessment that Tevinter could and would destroy him if given the opportunity.

“Well, as a magister, I can’t exactly stay away, can I?” Dorian replied, lightly, “But, I will be Tevinter’s ambassador, as the Magisterium requests.”

“I know that you’ve always been closer to your father.”

Dorian looked at his mother, sharply. Emotions were not a thing in the Pavus family. Or the Thalrassian family. The last real emotional conversation Dorian had with his father was back in Redcliffe, two years prior, and with his mother had been back when he refused to pretend to be straight. It had been a bad conversation that Dorian wasn’t sure his relationship with his mother would ever recover from.

“I admit, it was partially my fault for not being as active in your education as I could have been,” Aquinea continued, face relaxed and calm, like she was speaking about the weather instead of the profoundly painful subject of Dorian’s childhood, “regardless, I have always loved you, my son. I, too, do not want to see you hurt.”

“Did you know what Father tried to do to me?” Dorian _had_ to know.

“Not when he did it,” she admitted, “I had suspicions of how far he’d be willing to go, but I didn’t think he’d stoop to that level. He always hated blood magic.”

“Apparently, not enough.”

“Dorian.” His mother’s voice was a soft chide. “He wanted what he thought was best for you. He thought you’d be happier. You never were happy at home.”

“I had to squash who I was. I’m sure you can understand why my happiness was never paramount.” Dorian did _not_ want to be having this conversation. He loved his mother, the same way he loved his father: from far away where their words and judgments couldn’t hurt him.

“I do understand.” Aquinea sighed. “More than you know. With your father’s death, I’ve realized that I should be a little more forthcoming with the people I love. If nothing else, I want you to find your happiness. I didn’t always support you, but I would like to make amends as your father did. I hope that somehow you can be happy here in Tevinter.”

“I found my happiness, Mother,” Dorian informed her.

“With the Inquisition?” Aquinea was processing every word Dorian said with a quick mind. He could tell she was trying to figure out how to arrange him maintaining his seat in the Magisterium while also staying with the Inquisition. If anyone could figure it out, it was his mother. And she had enough clout that she couldn’t be easily ignored. It was… refreshing to have her trying to take care of him. She hadn’t taken a legitimate interest in his wellbeing since he was a young, prepubescent boy.

“The Inquisition was trying to save the world.” Dorian shook his head. “And we succeeded in that endeavor. No, it was the people _in_ the Inquisition that made me happy.”

“You’ve found someone.” Instantly, the woman’s mind stopped whirring at a thousand miles a minute. Dorian recognized the expression change over her features from polite and calculating to calm and knowing. She had apparently given up on the idea of grandchildren, because she looked positively _cherubic_ at the knowledge that Dorian had found a lover.

“Yes.” Dorian didn’t see a reason to deny it. There were already rumors flying about him and his multitude of Southern lovers all across Tevinter. Admitting to his mother that he had at least _one_ wasn’t too much of a stretch.

“Well, I hope you introduce us.” Aquinea sniffed, haughtily. Dorian realized abruptly where he had gotten that habit from. “I have to ascertain if he is good enough for my son.”

“I’m afraid that’s going to be impossible, Mother.” Dorian tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. From being disowned and abandoned by his entire family for being gay, the stark contrast in his mother not only accepting him, but also trying to make sure his partner was worthy… it brought forth a tidal wave of emotion that Dorian couldn’t possibly sort through.

“Nonsense.” His mother shook her head. “If he is your happiness, then I must meet him.”

“He can’t come to Tevinter.” Dorian sighed. He didn’t want to tell his mother about Bull.

“Well, then I’ll have to go visit him.” Aquinea was _not_ going to take “no” for an answer. Frankly, Dorian would have been surprised if she had. The woman had been a force of nature her entire life.

“I’ll see what I can do, Mother,” Dorian lied through his teeth. While he had breath in his body, he would not let his mother meet Bull. Being gay was one thing, but being gay with a _Qunari_ was something totally different. She might support him technically, but all promises went out the window when a Qunari entered the playing field.

“Don’t forget the package from Maevaris.” Aquinea finally deemed the conversation to be over and turned towards the door. “I’ll go ensure that your things are packed appropriately.” Meaning: she’d go order the slaves to pack his things. Dorian sighed. He’d been spending too much time with Ellana, and her views were starting to rub off on him. He’d have to free his slaves if he wanted to sleep ever again. Maybe he could rehire them as servants. Several of them had gone willingly into slavery for the sake of their families, but if Dorian could budget a way to pay them, it would still serve the same purpose but also ease his guilty conscience.

It wasn’t even that big of a stretch. Financially, the Pavus family was very well off. And considering his parents hadn’t fueled any of his underage drunken shenanigans or his life at all since he was disowned, they were doing very well for themselves.

Dorian would figure it out when he got back home. The Exalted Council had to happen first. Then, he’d return to Tevinter and start changing it for the better.

He looked at the package from Maevaris. A short note was scrawled in her neat script.

_A present to the ambassador to the Exalted Council. –MT_

Dorian had helped saved Maevaris from some young and idiotic mages when they were younger, so occasionally the woman felt like she owed him something. Dorian felt like, at this point, he owed _her_ for the number of favors she did for him, but no amount of discussion could convince her of that. Still, depending on what it was, Dorian could just give it back, or sneak it into her belongings the next time she visited. Maevaris would inevitably try to give it back, but Dorian usually got his way and refused it (though there _was_ a beautiful, hand-painted teacup that just kept migrating between Dorian’s and Maevaris’ possessions).

The small package held a pair of sending crystals, bright red with small pouches to keep them safe.

Dorian had never seen so many sending crystals in one place at one time. But this was one gift he’d never be able to get Maevaris to take back. She’d kill him first. Still, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He’d obviously have one pair for him to communicate with Bull, but now he had the opportunity to also be able to keep in touch with Ellana. Now, he just had to figure out how to make them work so he could teach his best friend and his lover.

And then pack. Because he had to get to Halamshiral for the Exalted Council. And to see Bull.


	24. Back to Halamshiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, my son in the hospital. Luckily, I have my laptop this time. I'm working on the next chapter. Hopefully, I can get it out sooner than in a month! Enjoy!

“Orlais is on your side, Lord Pavus. The Inquisition’s support is not a thing to lose lightly.” The Orlesian was as snooty as he was obnoxious, and it was a little presumptuous of him to just up and start talking to Dorian like they were friends. Still, it was Orlais. And the Game here was different. This man was instructed to keep the Inquisition together at all costs, likely by Empress Celene herself. So, Dorian could _really_ blame the man. It grated though, how quickly Dorian was identified as a weak spot in Ellana’s armor. It was true, but it shouldn’t have been world-wide knowledge.

“Which is why the Orlesian court is circling it with a net and collar?” Dorian crossed his arms, trying to show the man with both his posture and his tone that the conversation was _not_ a welcome one. Dorian would have liked to speak with Ellana first _before_ getting overwhelmed by the players of the Exalted Council. He spotted movement and glanced over to see Ellana, dressed in all her Inquisitor glory, approaching from around the hedge. “But you’ll have to excuse me! I see an old friend I must greet.”

Dorian abandoned the Orlesian with none of the propriety a man of his station was afforded, but he didn’t much care. “Inquisitor! How long has it been? Don’t actually tell me, I despise feeling old. It’s good to see you, my friend.”

“Thrilled to be at the Exalted Council, Lord Pavus?” Ellana grinned, eyes flickering towards the snubbed noble. She hadn’t dragged him into a hug, yet, which meant the man was still there. Josephine had been working on keeping Ellana “appropriate” with her familiarity for the entire time the Inquisition had been in existence. It worked some of the time.

“Oh, riveted.” Dorian smirked back. “Orlais wants the Inquisition tamed, Ferelden wants it gone, the Chantry meddles, and Tevinter sends but one ambassador.” He sighed and shook his head, melodramatically. “That’s me, by the way. A ‘reward for my interest in the South’.”

Ellana laughed, a bright sound that Dorian didn’t realize he had missed. Maker, he had forgotten how much he adored her.

“Thankfully, ‘Ambassador Pavus’ is a token appointment. Call on me as you like,” Dorian continued. Ellana’s eyes flickered over his shoulder again for a brief moment before she literally threw herself at him. Dorian laughed, wrapping his arms around her slim form. She hugged him tightly with a happy sigh.

“I missed you, Dor.”

“I missed you, too, Ell.” Dorian knew that they had an audience, it would be impossible to be in the Winter Palace _without_ some spy watching them the entire time, but with him returning to Tevinter for good, he wasn’t sure he’d get a good opportunity.

“So, did you ever figure out what Cullen had gotten for you?” Dorian teased.

“No!” Ellana whined, “And you’re just trying to stir up trouble!”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

Dorian found Krem before he found Bull, which wasn’t fair, all things considered, because the man wanted Dorian to help haul a dragon head across a room to surprise Bull for his birthday. (And made Dorian feel infinitely worse as a lover when he realized he had _completely_ forgotten about Bull’s birthday.) Dorian suggested perhaps he help distract his Qunari, but that didn’t go over well.

“You can’t lie your way out of a paper bag.” Krem shook his head. “And he knows you too well. He’ll know something’s up.”

“I’m not helping drag a dragon head across a courtyard.” Dorian answered without hesitation. “You think he doesn’t know already?”

“He doesn’t!” Krem insisted, “We’ve been very careful.”

“I’m sure you have, but this is _Bull_ we’re talking about.” Dorian sighed. “I doubt very much that he’s unaware.”

“Look, we could use the help,” Krem pointed out.

“If you put too many people on this, it’ll never work. Remember the cave in the Fallow Mire?”

Krem flushed a bit at _that_ particular memory.

“I wouldn’t be much help anyway. Using magic to help move it would only end in trouble.” Dorian shook his head. “And, as you all are so fond of reminding me, I am a weakling. I wouldn’t _be_ any help, other than laughing at you all. Which will just garner Bull’s attention.”

“Spoilsport.” Krem stuck his tongue out at Dorian.

“By all means, go ahead and do what you want for Bull’s birthday.” Dorian held his hands up, placatingly. “I won’t stop or interfere. I’ll wait to find him until you surprise him, even. Waiting on spotting me will help distract him, right?”

“All right.” Krem shook his head. “Thanks anyway.”

“How are you and Maryden, by the way?”

“Go away!” Krem flushed and shoved at Dorian, trying to get the mage to leave. Dorian laughed and left the area, knowing better than to get on the Chargers’ bad side. Still, he lingered across the courtyard, lurking to see when Bull would notice. Because Bull _definitely_ knew already. Krem got Ellana involved, and she tried to distract Bull while the Chargers struggled to drag the head across the courtyard. It was a big head and it didn’t go unnoticed by the Orlesian bystanders. Though, Orlesians had Madame Snippy Snaps, so they couldn’t complain too much about dragon heads.

When they got the head in its proper position and yelled to surprise Bull, his Qunari laughed and acted surprised. But it was the Fake Smile. And Dorian might not have seen his lover in a few weeks, but he knew those smiles. He knew them better than he remembered the Game. And considering he had been part of the Game since he could remember, that was saying something.

Bull allowed himself to be ambushed by his Chargers, laughing happily at their ridiculous shenanigans. Dorian smiled at the sight. Then he remembered that he hadn’t gotten Bull anything for his birthday and felt awful. He’d have to see what he could find in the marketplace.

Dorian had managed to find the best last minute gift he could and had even managed to get it wrapped up when he ran face first into a broad chest covered in scars. He blinked up at his lover, unable to keep the silly grin from his face. Bull was smiling right back.

“There you are.” Bull’s fingers found the inside of Dorian’s wrist, squeezing lightly. Dorian almost melted. It would have been entirely inappropriate and it wasn’t even remotely fair how Bull could elicit such a strong reaction from Dorian.

“I had to do some shopping.” Dorian held up the package by way of explanation.

“Shopping is more important than your amatus?” Bull teased.

“It is when it’s a gift for him,” Dorian replied, primly. Bull’s eye lit up.

“It’s just a birthday, kadan. It’s meaningless.” Bull was trying desperately not to seem excited about the gift, but Dorian knew better.

“It may be meaningless to the Qunari, but it means something to everyone else. And since you’re not in Par Vollen, your birthday matters, too,” Dorian retorted. Bull shook his head with a smile.

“I’ve found a quiet nook that doesn’t have any sort of audience,” he said.

“Then why are we here and not there?” Dorian asked.

“Because I had to come find you, since you were avoiding me.” Bull rubbed his fingers against Dorian’s wrist before interlocking their fingers. He pulled Dorian to a large courtyard with a fountain and a pair of couches.

“This had no audience?” Dorian laughed.

“Well, it’s easy to spot the audience.” Bull shrugged. “The ground is solid stone, there’s no hidden passages underneath, so any eavesdroppers have to be more obvious.”

“Good enough.” Dorian sat down on the couch with a sigh. Bull settled down next to him. His arm draped over Dorian’s shoulders. The weight was entirely too comfortable. Dorian knew that he should probably say _something_ to avoid getting them in trouble in public. Also to preserve his public image since he was now a magister, but he liked the sensation too much. And he hadn’t seen Bull in weeks. And he wasn’t going to get to see him hardly at all in the future. He could fix his public image when he was back in Tevinter.

“How was it, kadan?” Bull asked, softly.

“Awful.” Dorian sighed. “But everything is in order. I found my father’s sending crystals. Turns out he had found the matching set. He wanted to give me one so we could stay in contact when I was in the South.”

Bull said nothing, letting Dorian find the words he needed.

“He didn’t want me to come back to Tevinter. He was working on reforms in the Imperium to make it safer for me there. He wanted me to be able to come home, but he didn’t think I’d be safe. So, he found the sending crystals so we could talk.”

“He cared about you,” Bull prompted.

“In his own, frustrating and absurd way, yes.” Dorian allowed himself the luxury to lean against Bull’s broad form.

“Well, at least we have a few days together before you leave for good.” Bull sighed.

“You’re leaving?!” Sera popped up from behind the couch, holding a pie in her hands. Dorian jumped out of his skin.

“_Fasta vass_! How long have you been there?!”

“Was waitin’ for someone to pie in the face.” Sera hefted the pie. “Then you lot came, blah blah daddy issues, and _you’re leaving_?!”

“You knew she was hiding there,” Dorian accused Bull. Bull shrugged. Dorian poked him. Bull shrugged again. “Yes, Sera. I have to go back to Tevinter. Permanently. I’m a magister now and I can help change my country for the better.”

Sera listened to approximately the first six words before sprinting off, pie in hand. Dorian looked at Bull, completely confused. Bull shrugged yet again.

“This is your fault,” Dorian decided.

“Sure, kadan,” Bull chuckled, “What’s this gift you got me?”

Dorian felt a flush come to his face and thrust the package at his lover.

“It’s not much. I had some ideas, but they all fell through. This was the best I could do. It’s not like the chair I had commissioned for you. Or the necklace.”

“It’s so _pretty_,” Bull murmured, eye wide as he stared at the silk scarf. It was horrendously pink, with an embroidered design in a darker pink just to make it more hideous. It took every ounce of confidence and self-discipline Dorian had to willing pay money for the monstrosity. And Bull was looking at it like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Which spoke volumes of the brain damage he’d received as a warrior, in Dorian’s opinion.

“I’m glad you like it.” Dorian couldn’t look at Bull anymore. This was getting too mushy too fast. “I saw it and knew it was right up your alley. Oh, here’s the sending crystal.” He dug into a pouch and produced the red stone necklace. He already had one of the gems attached to his necklace right next to his half of the dragon tooth.

Bull tore his gaze from the scarf to look at the small stone, questioningly.

“_This_ will let us communicate instantly while across the continent?” Bull asked, disbelievingly.

“Yes.” Dorian pulled his necklace out from under his collar. “All you have to do is hold the crystal in your hand and say ‘_las’dirth_’. I’ll feel the crystal heat up and vibrate and can answer in the same way.”

“_Las’dirth_?” Bull tested the pronunciation. Immediately, the crystal around Dorian’s neck warmed with a soft red glow and vibrated against his sternum. Bull stared at the offending crystal. Dorian touched it.

“_Las’dirth_,” he confirmed. Bull’s crystal started glowing in response and Bull almost threw the thing in surprise as it too warmed to the touch. “It’s all right, amatus.” Dorian’s voice echoed from Bull’s crystal.

“This is freaky shit, kadan.” Bull glanced back and forth between the crystals. His voice echoed in the courtyard.

“Either one of us can shut down the connection by touching the crystal and saying ‘_las’hamin_’,” Dorian continued. At his words, both crystals stopped glowing and cooled down. “It requires both of us to open the connection, but only one to close it.”

“And it’s magic?” Bull looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“It’s an ancient relic of a past age.” Dorian sighed. “Technically, _yes_, it uses magic, but it doesn’t require any magic from you or me to work. It’s already been imbued with the magic. You aren’t going to have to worry about demons coming from the crystal or anything like that. You’re more likely to encounter a demon following Ellana around than from using the crystal.”

Bull looked a little better, but the mention of demons put a scowl on his features.

“Trust me, amatus.” Dorian pressed his fingers tightly to Bull’s wrist. “They’re perfectly safe. I’ve done a lot of research on these.”

“Okay…” Bull eyed the crystal carefully. “It’s still fucking weird, though.”

Dorian chuckled.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?!” Sera screeched, interrupting whatever it was Bull was about to say. They looked up to see the elf dragging the rest of the inner circle over to them.

“You’re leaving the Inquisition, Sparkles?” Varric asked.

Dorian sighed.

“Yes.” He then spent fifteen minutes explaining and fielding questions as to why he was leaving and what he needed to accomplish in Tevinter.

“Well, we should have drinks,” Blackwall suggested, “toast to your new position.”

“Drinks!” Sera held up a couple of bottles of wine. Cole held up a crate of bottles.

“Kid, what?” Varric stared at him.

“It’s a celebration.” Cole shrugged. “Dorian wanted a drink.”

The alcohol took a bit of the edge off, though no one got particularly drunk, considering they were in the midst of the Winter Palace with Maker knew how many people willing to stab them all in the back (and it was Orlesian wine, so it was pretty shit). Stories were being bandied about regarding things Dorian had said or did in the midst of trying to save the world. Finally, Varric stood up, holding his goblet out to shut everyone up.

“As the most eloquent dwarf you know, Sparkles–” he began.

“Speech! Speech! Way too much speech,” Sera interrupted him with a scowl.

“Varric, there’s really no need…” Dorian spotted Ellana approaching the group and his heart sank into his gut. He hadn’t told her yet.

“What’s going on?” Ellana piped up, grinning at the sight of everyone drinking and laughing together.

“Inquisitor! You’re just in time.” Varric nodded at her with a smile before turning back to Dorian. “Sparkles, the Imperium doesn’t deserve you. Or want you. It may even kill you. But _we’ll_ miss you, if it counts.”

Dorian couldn’t look away from Ellana, and the accusing look she sent him made his chest compress uncomfortably. He sent her a sheepish and apologetic look in return. Varric caught the look and winced.

“Aaaand you didn’t know.” Varric turned on his heel and waved the rest of the group off. “Okay, folks! Time to take the party elsewhere.”

It took a moment, but the rest of the inner circle slipped away. Well, mostly. Varric still lurked and Bull was flopped on his back in the spot he had settled once the drink started flowing. Dorian couldn’t recall Bull laying down. He was sitting upright when Dorian looked at him last. Bull snored from his place on the ground.

“Tama never wanted any, I swear…” Bull _definitely_ hadn’t had enough to drink to make him unconscious, so this was all some act. Maybe he wanted to listen in on the conversation. More likely, he wanted to make sure Dorian remained all right throughout the no-doubt difficult conversation.

“Errr, leave him,” Varric suggested, finally leaving them alone.

Dorian couldn’t look at Ellana. The guilt gnawed at him. He had been avoiding telling her or _anyone _really. It wasn’t fair to her, but he didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. And Ellana could take this poorly. He felt Ellana follow him, getting closer and closer until he thought she’d touch him.

“It’s true.” He looked at her, unable to take the pressure of not knowing what she was thinking. “When the Exalted Council has ended, I’m going back to Tevinter… for good, this time.”

“You know I’ll miss you.” Ellana’s voice was soft and gentle.

“Naturally.” Dorian tried for flippant, but Ellana’s expression told him to knock it off. “My father is dead. Assassinated, I believe. I received notice this morning: a perversely cheerful letter congratulating me on assuming his seat in the Magisterium.” It wasn’t precisely a lie. Some magister who was a bit behind on the times _had_ sent a letter that morning.

“We only met a few times while I was home. He didn’t say anything about keeping me as his heir,” Dorian continued, trying to skip past his lie before Ellana caught him, “this ‘ambassadorship’… his doing, I’m told. He must have wanted me away when the trouble began.” It took him a few seconds to get the next words out. Somehow, this conversation almost seemed harder than the one with Bull (which was just impossible, all things considered).

“I _have_ to go back.”

“So, you’ll truly be a magister?” Ellana asked. Her brows were furrowed together as she pieced the entire picture together.

“Oh, yes. I can’t wait to degrade the Magisterium with my presence! A new outfit is required,” Dorian teased, lightly.

“And then what?” Ellana was quite solemn and it bothered him.

“I find my father’s killers and kill them back. Then I find those giving Tevinter a bad name and kill them. They’re most likely the same people, so that should make the job easier.” Dorian shrugged.

“How does Bull feel about this?” Ellana _had_ to bring him up. Dorian glanced at his Qunari, still lying on the ground. He was oddly still. Which told Dorian he was listening carefully to everything that was happening to him.

“He…” Dorian hesitated for a moment. “_Wants_ to come with me.”

Both of them chewed on that information for a moment.

“It can’t happen, of course. A Qunari cannot simply walk around the Imperium, even in a magister’s company,” Dorian continued, quickly. Trying to get the words out before he started thinking that _maybe_… “I don’t want him hurt. He doesn’t want me hurt. We’re working it out,” he choked out.

“You’ll need help. I could go with you,” Ellana suggested, also glancing at Bull.

“Not this time, my friend.” Dorian shook his head. He wouldn’t throw Ellana to the wolves like that. Though, chances were, she’d get the entire Imperium to bow to her whims. She just had that sort of luck. “I won’t be entirely without support. Maevaris has gathered other magisters who feel as we do. We’ll be an actual faction in the Magisterium. I’ll teach them manners. Take them shopping. It’ll be fun!”

Ellana smiled at his levity. Her face abruptly fell. Dorian almost looked over his shoulder to see if someone had appeared to make her mood sour so quickly.

“I know it was complicated, but… I’m sorry about your father.”

“Thank you. It still doesn’t feel real.” Dorian swallowed, tightly. Even having attended the funeral and settling his father’s estates hadn’t helped him secure the knowledge of his father’s death in his mind.

“I wish you safe travels, and the best of luck.” Ellana’s hands clenched like she wanted to hug him or something.

“Oh, I’ll need it, thank you. Magisters are tricksy bastards.” Dorian nodded. He dug into his pocket for the crystals. “A present. A going-away present. It’s a sending crystal. Amazing what friendship with the Inquisition gives you access to.” Ellana looked at the crystal avidly, eyes wide. Her expression told him that she’d heard of such crystals before and knew _exactly_ how hard they were to find.

“If I get in over my head, or you’re overwhelmed with sorrow for lack of my velvety voice – magic!” Dorian grinned. Ellana looked up at him with a bright smile. “What – you didn’t think I would just leave and you’d never hear from me again, did you?” Ellana threw herself at him, attaching herself around his middle. Dorian wrapped his arms around her and dropped his face into her hair. “You are my dearest friend, perhaps my only friend. That will never change, no matter where we are,” he murmured. Ellana nodded into his chest.

“Now let’s finish the good wine before the others get back.” Dorian extricated himself from her grip. She took the news much better than he expected.

“Wait, tell me how these crystals work!” She demanded, “This rune is Elvhen.”

“Yes, I suspect my people stole more than a few artifacts from yours.” Dorian taught Ellana how the sending crystals worked, learning what the phrases actually meant, before they both settled on the couch. Bull sat up with a groan, pretending to wake up.

“You two gonna be okay?” Ellana asked, leaning against Dorian’s side.

“We’re gonna be fine, Boss.” Bull took up the spot on Dorian’s other side. Dorian allowed himself to relax against his lover.

“Well, if I have to go to Tevinter to drag Dorian back to make sure you two _stay_ fine, just let me know.” Ellana sighed.

“Don’t worry; I’ll do it myself,” Bull replied.

“You will not!” Dorian snapped.

“Where’s the wine?” Ellana interrupted with a grin.


	25. Trespasser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR TRESPASSER DLC

“It’s happening!”

How Lace Harding was the only person who was ever in the know with whatever was going on between Ellana and Cullen, Dorian had no idea. He assumed she just knew everything, because no matter what was being asked, she pretty much _did_ know everything. The Chargers, with Bull and Dorian on their heels, following Harding from their places in the tavern to a small alleyway, which they all crowded in. Dorian couldn’t see past Krem or Stitches, but Bull wrapped his arms around his waist and hoisted him up. Dorian almost squawked in surprise, but managed to keep his mouth shut.

Out in the small courtyard was Cullen playing with a mabari, acting disgustingly adorable, with Ellana approaching slowly as she watched the pure cuteness unfold. From the distance they were at, it was impossible to hear what was going on when Ellana finally interrupted the playtime. It didn’t much matter, because Cullen turned bright red in embarrassment and started stumbling over his words (which was obvious even from the distance they were at) and rubbing the back of his head nervously. He didn’t get down on one knee, but Ellana started nodding enthusiastically and then they embraced with a tender kiss. It was enough to make one vomit.

Still, the Chargers were only human (well, not even that, really) and so the inevitable reaction of cheering couldn’t be denied. Luckily, Harding seemed to have anticipated that reaction and shoved Krem into Dalish unceremoniously. The shove toppled over half of the group, aborting the cheering in one fell swoop. Dorian could see (past the fumbling Chargers) that the noise had startled the couple and they started looking around. The mabari was looking straight at them.

“Shit. We have to go!” He hissed at the Chargers. Bull obediently carried him off, ignoring the scrambling of his men behind them.

“I won.” Bull grinned.

“Well, forgive me for not thinking the Exalted Council is not a particularly good time for a proposal.” Dorian huffed. “The man’s had a ring for her for weeks now. What’s he been waiting for?”

“He got nervous.” Bull shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.”

“You weren’t nervous about calling me ‘kadan’,” Dorian pointed out.

“I don’t get nervous.”

“Except for when you had to come to my room for sex.”

“And, when you said you were going back to Tevinter.”

Dorian sobered immediately. Bull didn’t seem as impaired.

“Being with you has taught me how to deal with nervousness.”

“Are you saying I’m bad for your nerves?” Dorian tried to tease, but his voice was tight.

“Of course, you are,” Bull chuckled, “every time you’re out of my sight, I get worried you’re going to do something stupid and get attacked.”

Every time Dorian thought he couldn’t be surprised by his lover, Bull would go and say some romantic crap like _that_ and make Dorian fall in love all over again. Bull let Dorian back on his feet, but Dorian wasn’t entirely prepared for holding his own bodyweight again, especially with Bull’s words in his ears, so he swayed for a moment. Bull chuckled again and it was so utterly unfair how perfect he was.

“You _impossible_ lummox!” Dorian snapped.

“You love me.”

Dorian felt his ears flush and resolutely clamped his lips shut.

“Come on, I know when and where the wedding’s gonna be.”

“Wait, they’re getting married _now_?!” Dorian asked, following after his lover.

“Of course. Neither one of them like big ceremonies. And they’ll want to keep it a secret.” Bull shrugged.

“Then why are we intruding on their secret?”

“Because they need witnesses for the wedding to be legitimate. And, you’re a big sap and you’d feel bad if you missed Boss’ wedding. In retrospect, she’d miss you being there, too. Eventually, when the moment has worn off, she’ll feel guilty and then come to you to confess she got married without you being there and you can feel guilty and confess you spied on her wedding the whole time and then you’ll both laugh and get over it.”

Dorian frowned at his Qunari’s back, a little perturbed by how much like reality that sounded like. It seemed like _exactly_ what would go down and he didn’t much care for how predictable he apparently was. Bull just kept walking, leading him to a tiny archway secluded from the rest of the city.

“This is where they’ll get married,” Bull continued, not noticing Dorian’s unease, “once Cullen finds Mother Giselle, they’ll sneak over here, because it’s close enough to the Chantry to get her here without being noticed.”

“Have I ever told you how freaky it is that you can do that?” Dorian asked. Bull pulled Dorian out of sight of the arch behind a pillar.

“Many times.” He grinned. “Usually while we’re naked.”

“Well, I’m telling you now. And we’re _not_ getting naked!”

“We don’t _have_ to get naked to enjoy ourselves, kadan,” Bull pointed out, “in the library, all our clothes stayed _on_.”

“We’re waiting for the wedding of my best friend,” Dorian snipped, “we’re _not_ having sex!”

“We don’t have to have sex,” Bull suggested, easily, “we could just make out.”

“Making out with you a precursor to sex.”

“If you say ‘no’, I’ll respect that, kadan.” Bull’s tone was abruptly solemn.

Dorian softened a bit.

“I know, amatus. I trust you.”

“So, you’ll trust me when I say: we have time to make out?”

Dorian groaned. Bull stole a kiss. Dorian let him.

Bull was right in his assessment that it took longer than Dorian expected for Ellana and Cullen to enter the small courtyard with Mother Giselle and the silly mabari in tow. Cullen hadn’t changed from his Inquisition formal attire, but Ellana had slipped into a simple white dress. Dorian took a moment to imagine a large, formal wedding and how stunning she would be, but quickly came down from that cloud. Ellana would be much happier getting married in the woods, bare-foot and splattered in mud. This was as close to that as she could get.

The trio settled under the archway, with the lovers taking hands. Cullen murmured something to Ellana that made her smile. Then, she started speaking in elven, soft, solemn vows that spoke volumes beyond the few short sentences with their impact.

“I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this woman the rest of my days,” Cullen answered her vows with his own. Mother Giselle murmured soft prayers and blessings upon them and then the pair kissed. Dorian was grinning so hard his face hurt.

“Do you want to get married?” Bull murmured. The words were so shocking that Dorian just froze, eyes wide.

“I thought we were,” he whispered back, touching the dragon tooth on Bull’s chest, meaningfully.

“Well, according to _my_ culture, yeah,” Bull pointed out, “I thought you’d might want this yourself.”

“Amatus, we’re tied together forever.” Dorian shook his head. “Having a proper wedding is… impossible anyway. No one would marry a Qunari and a magister. Not even Mother Giselle.”

“That wasn’t what I asked, kadan.” Bull’s eye bore into Dorian’s. “Is a wedding something you want?”

“I gave up on that dream long ago,” Dorian said, instead. Bull seemed satisfied with that answer and shut up. Dorian peered around the pillar again to see Mother Giselle escorting the newlyweds back from whence they came. Short and sweet and not-so-secret.

Of course, everything had to come crashing down _right_ in the middle of the Council and suddenly, Ellana was having Bull and Dorian follow her through eluvians here and there and everywhere because suddenly the Qunari were invading. Everyone knew better than to ask Bull anything, but Dorian could see how affected his lover was by the attack. He didn’t like not knowing what was going on at the best of times, much less when it was his own race who had completely disowned him. Not that it stopped him from making the most of it, of course.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun. The old team together again to kick some ass!” He crowed, happily, “How ‘bout it, kadan?” Dorian felt his face burn at the name. True, they’d been using the endearments for a long time, but they’d been careful to keep it between the two of them, and not when they were working. Well, _Dorian_ had been careful.

“Ah, we’re doing the names, are we?” He muttered, wryly.

“It’s a title of honor, kadan!” Bull reminded him, teasingly.

“I need a drink.” Dorian sighed. It was rather silly to be embarrassed by the endearments as their relationship was not even remotely a secret. Still, Dorian would have liked to be a bit more private. But, he had to compromise for his lover. If it made Bull happy, then he could suck it up.

“Do you want your amatus to cheer you up? I could do some of those flexes you like.” Bull suggested. Dorian sighed again, unable to keep his personal entertainment from the sound. It shouldn’t have been something anyone enjoyed, but he had a profound weakness for the rippling muscles and scars on his Qunari. Regardless, he followed Ellana, trying to put the mental image away so they could focus on the task at hand. Though, his focus got shot when they stepped onto a parapet and found themselves in the middle of the biggest field of stripweed Dorian had ever seen in his life.

“Here we go again. What a change of pace from the Winter Palace,” he muttered, dryly, “a clear sky, a beautiful view, and… yes! Fields and fields of stripweed as far as the eye can see!” His sarcasm covered up his anxiety about being too close to the silly plant. His nose was already starting to tickle and his throat started to itch.

“You bring your handkerchief?” Bull asked, quietly, though Ellana shot Dorian a questioning look that told Dorian he wasn’t quite quiet enough.

“I’m not _allergic_.” Dorian snapped, trying not to sneeze on the last word.

“You always say that, and a half-hour later, you’re taking mine.” Bull sounded practically _fond_ of that fact. Which, he probably _was_. Bull got ridiculously attached to silly little domestic things that made butterflies flutter in Dorian's gut every time they happened.

“Amatus, can you not fuss like an old–” Dorian tried to hold the sneeze back, but only managed to take the sound and compress it into a tiny sneeze that would likely be described as “adorable” by literally anyone other than Dorian himself. He hoped no one dared bring it up.

“Aha!”

“Let’s move on, shall we?” Dorian tried to ignore the smug look from Bull as he snatched the proffered handkerchief. It wasn’t quite possible when Bull used the small cloth to tug Dorian closer to press their foreheads together briefly. The motion warmed the cockles and turned Dorian into mush, though he’d never admit it on pain of death. When Dorian pulled back to follow after Ellana, he found her grinning brightly at them. He scowled at her until she resumed her lead through the ruins they’d found.

Like all things that had to come to an end, eventually Ellana had to go back to the Exalted Council. They were pissy enough without being blatantly ignored for far more important shit, but Dorian wasn’t really allowed to say anything, lest his home country get mad at him. Now that he was a magister, he actually had to pay attention to what people thought of him. _Especially_ if he was going to change their very culture one day.

He was settled on a bench, deliberately ignoring the blatant attempts of his lover to instigate intimacy (by flexing and stretching and “working out” nearby while looking meaningfully over at Dorian in the midst of every movement), when Ellana came up to him.

“Good to see you, my friend.” Dorian acknowledged her, turning away from Bull to keep himself focused on his friend. Ellana wasn’t having any of it, though, based on the deliberate glance at Bull.

“Things are going well with the Bull, I take it?” Her grin was blinding.

“He’s happy I’ve returned, if that’s what you mean. Nearly crushed three of my ribs with that ridiculous hug.” Dorian rolled his eyes.

“You say that as if you didn’t like it,” Ellana chuckled.

“For such a great beast, he’s a terrible sap. ‘I want to talk about my _feelings_, Dorian.’ Ugh.” Dorian grunted in a passable imitation of his Qunari and trying to pretend like he didn’t adore the fact that Bull was a pure romantic at heart.

“You _do_ like it!” Ellana was full-on laughing.

“Quiet, you. He’ll overhear, and then where will I be?” Dorian hissed, trying to keep her voice down. Ellana couldn’t stop her giggles that quickly though.

“I don’t know which of you is worse!”

And, as was usual with the world, Ellana got them into some serious shit before the day was done. The Qunari were planning some sort of all-out attack on the rest of Thedas with yet _another_ dragon, and somehow, Ellana figured it all out in the nick of time. Because that was what she did. But then there was the Viddasala yelling in Qunlat. At _Bull_.

“Hissrad! Now, please. Vinek kathas.”

Dorian hated that name. Yes, it was the name the Qunari had given him, but they had originally named him “Ashkaari”. Considering how quickly they went through names (entirely dependent on their role in society), Dorian knew Bull didn’t feel any particular attachment to either “Ashkaari” or “Hissrad”. Still, “Hissrad” just reminded Dorian of the large part of Bull’s life that he had no practical knowledge of. He didn’t much care for being Bull’s lover and knowing the least about him in that particular area.

“Not a chance, ma’am.” Only when Bull spoke did it occur to Dorian that the woman was asking for him to rejoin the Qun and betray the Inquisition (and Ellana and Dorian in the process). The thought that the Viddasala thought for even a _moment_ that Bull _would_ betray them without question shot ice through Dorian’s veins. Bull _wouldn’t_ do that. Well, Hissrad might, but Bull had given up that name along with his ties to the Qun. Dorian had no doubt in his lover.

But, then they were being attacked and Dorian couldn’t focus on much beyond _not_ getting stabbed in the face. In short order, they had fended off the attack, though the Viddasala had run off. Dorian looked at Bull, more concerned about his Qunari than any other at the moment.

“Are you all right?” He asked, quietly. Bull turned his eye on Dorian, entirely focused.

“Never better, kadan.” He touched his fingers to the inside of Dorian’s wrist. Dorian knew that the touch was more for Bull himself than for Dorian. Where Dorian had no doubt Bull would stay with them, Bull seemed to need reminding what he had decided to fight for.

“I’m glad to hear it… amatus.” Dorian stood up on his toes to pull Bull’s forehead down. He shut his eyes, breathing the same air as Bull for a moment and just lending his love and support to Bull. Bull sighed, a soft, contented sound, and Dorian smiled in response.

“Viddasala, now. Make out, later.” Ellana shoved a hand into the middle of Dorian’s back, which just forced him into Bull’s chest (which was a total contradiction to her words).

“Aw, Boss, you’re just jealous,” Bull teased.

Dorian stole a quick kiss from Bull as Ellana snipped back a quick retort. Bull squeezed gently on Dorian’s wrist before letting go.

Ellana managed to find Solas (who was Fen’Harel, which apparently Ellana already knew?!), and get the Anchor removed (thank the Maker, because she was in agony all the time, though it did require he losing her arm…), _and_ make it back to the Exalted Council in time to declare that they would _not_ be disbanding the Inquisition, but neither would the Inquisition be leashed by Orlais. Instead, Divine Victoria would maintain the Inquisition as her honor guard. Divine Victoria, for her part, seemed pleased with that result. Dorian knew Ellana was just utilizing the Inquisition’s resources to help fund her new mission of finding Solas and redeeming him. She was certain she could do it. And Dorian knew better than to bet against her.


	26. The New Normal

Dorian was beyond exhausted. He had been listening to opposing arguments against his referendum to help end corruption between Soporati and Laetans, which shouldn’t have been all that controversial, for nearly three days. He had, at first, attempted to adjust the corruption of the magisters, hoping for a trickle-down effect, but there was enough push-back that he knew he had to reverse his plan. If enough of the people of Tevinter were against corruption and not utilizing it themselves behind closed doors, it would force the magisters to end their own corrupt dealings.

At least, that was the theory.

Luckily, Maevaris was with him the entire time. Well, Maevaris and their band of Lucerni. It had been Dorian’s brain child to bring together a group of like-minded individuals to start gathering enough clout to make his ideas heard and respected in the Magisterium. He blamed Ellana’s influence. Still, the group was actually becoming a force in the Magisterium. A small force, to be sure, but a true force nonetheless.

“I’m going to go home a take a long bath,” Maevaris decided as they exited the massive chambers. There had been a lot of talk, and the Magisterium wouldn’t officially end the session until a vote was called, but they recessed every evening. Dorian agreed with the notion of taking a long bath. But he had work to do. Change wouldn’t come to his country overnight.

“That sounds lovely,” Dorian replied.

“So, you go take a bath, too.” Maevaris shrugged. “All this business can wait until tomorrow.”

“I’ve got a few letters to write.” Dorian shook his head. “A couple favors to call in.”

“Some bribes to make?” Maevaris teased, knowing full well that if Dorian could avoid bribing people, he completely would. It was an inevitability of power that bribery would occur. It was _exactly_ the type of corruption he wanted to eradicate. But he had to ease into that. Getting rid of bribes would take a hell of a lot longer than getting rid of blood magic.

Dorian made a face at her instead of dignifying her with a response.

“Take a night off,” she suggested, “you’ve been working yourself to the bone for three months. Hell, take a weekend off. When we’re not in session anymore, go home and don’t do _any_ work at all for like, a week. Then you can get right back to killing yourself slowly.”

“I’ll take a break when this country is fixed,” Dorian snapped.

“Well, that’s going to take years, and running yourself ragged isn’t going to help anyone.” Maevaris departed from Dorian’s company with those words, making him scowl. He _hated_ it when she got the last word. And she _always_ got the last word.

“Dorian.” The sound of his name made him automatically stiffen his back into a more formal posture. He turned to his mother, smiling politely.

“Mother.” He offered her his arm. Since they were going to the same place, it made sense to walk together. But Aquinea would _never_ be seen in an inappropriate light. Dorian had asked many times over the course of his life why his mother needed to hold onto the arm of _any_ man to walk down the street, when she was more powerful than most, and he never got a real answer. It usually devolved to “just do it, Dorian”, which was his least favorite reason. Still, he had to survive with the woman for the foreseeable future and if _anyone_ could make his life more miserable, it was his mother. Though, since he’d taken his apprenticeship with Alexius, he rarely saw or heard from her. It had been nearly a decade since he had a _real_ conversation with his mother. It was apparent to him that she saw him as an adult, not the petulant and insolent child he had been. She seemed less inclined to chastise him, anyway.

“You spoke well today,” Aquinea said, conversationally.

“Thank you.” Dorian didn’t know what she was getting at. She was _always_ getting at something.

“You’ve been working very hard these past few months,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, “perhaps you should take a few days off.”

“Listening in on Maevaris, were you?” Dorian asked, dryly. The look his mother gave him was _so_ worth the sass.

“I worry about you,” she corrected, “your father spent an inordinate amount of time and energy to keep you _away_ from this mess.”

“So, why did he keep me as his heir?”

“Because it is your birthright.” Aquinea was _not_ amused. “And when I die, my seat shall also pass to you.”

“Two votes! Goodie!”

Dorian winced at the tight pinch on the back of his arm. Aquinea continued strolling and smiling like nothing had happened.

“You know you only get one vote.” She shook her head gently. “That’s not the point. The point is: your father worked hard to keep you safe from our society. Working until you can’t see straight prevents you from being able to truly ensure you are safe.”

“I can take care of myself, Mother,” Dorian replied.

“I know that.” She waved his words away. “But when you are not entirely focused, you can’t protect yourself from would-be assassins. Your focus has been torn between your work here, your friends in the Inquisition, and your lover in the South.”

Dorian stopped cold in his tracks.

He had forgotten that he had told her about Bull.

Aquinea pulled him along, sedately, that polite smile still spread over her features.

“Perhaps you should take a week. Go visit your lover. Ease your mind and center your focus.”

Dorian felt his face burn. This was _not_ a conversation he wanted to be having.

“And see me before you leave. I have a letter for your lover.”

No. Not even a little bit would Dorian be a messenger between Bull and Aquinea. He couldn’t think of a single reason why his mother would want to correspond with Bull or why Bull would correspond back. They had nothing in common and should stay on opposite sides of the continent for as long as they both lived. Nothing good could come of delivering a message from Aquinea Thalrassian to the Iron Bull.

“I don’t have time to take a week off, Mother,” Dorian refuted the claim in its entirety. Then, he wouldn’t have to fight her on delivering this letter. “I have too much to do here.”

“You should take a few weeks off, frankly.” Aquinea ignored him. “But since I know I can’t convince you to take _that_ much time, a week will do. You can travel down to your lover, have a few days' relaxation, and then return.”

“He’s busy, Mother.” For all he knew, Bull was in Ferelden. (That was a lie. Bull and his Chargers had been lingering in northern Orlais since the Inquisition dissolved most of its ranks.)

“You gave him a sending crystal.” How Aquinea learned the things she did, Dorian had no idea. “Just speak with him tonight.”

“If you know about the sending crystal, then why don’t you just want to speak with him?” Dorian asked. His face was going to be on fire the entire walk home, he could tell.

“Because that sending crystal is on that necklace that you try so hard to keep hidden.”

Dorian rubbed his eyes, tiredly. He was _not_ ready to be speaking to his mother about Bull.

“And, it’s rude to use someone else’s sending crystal.”

“What’s the necklace got to do with anything?” Dorian couldn’t help but be snippy at his mother. It just wasn’t right how she got to _notice _all the little things.

“You protect that necklace more than you protect your own life. Have you enchanted it so it can’t be removed?”

“I can take it off,” Dorian muttered. So could Bull, but Dorian didn’t tell his mother that.

“I suspect, based on how secretive you are of it, as well as how protective you are of it, that this was a gift from your lover. I wouldn’t dare to presume to utilize a sending crystal between lovers, regardless of how much I would like to speak with the man,” Aquinea said, diplomatically, “I have no intention of isolating you from me further. I did enough of that in your childhood.”

It always bothered Dorian the way she spoke of his childhood, as if it were all an unpleasant memory that she took no pride in. If she really didn’t like it, why did she put him through it? But, he was much too old to be getting into such conversations with his mother. Firstly, the answers would probably hurt him in some capacity, and he didn’t need more pain in his life. And secondly, the answers probably wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him, but it would be the only explanation he would get. Besides, he didn’t want to dredge up the past, especially not when he and his mother were finally on decent speaking terms.

“I’ll speak with him.” Dorian knew the only way to end the conversation was to cave. If there was _anyone_ more stubborn than Bull in Thedas, it was Aquinea Thalrassian. (Well, and Ellana, but she went without saying.)

“Also, give my love to Inquisitor Lavellan,” Aquinea continued, like she hadn’t just made Dorian expressly uncomfortable, “she sent a gift basket last week for my birthday.”

Dorian hadn’t known about that. Why was Ellana buttering up his mother?

“It had the most delightful assortment of poisonous herbs.” Aquinea smiled. “She’s so thoughtful.”

“What favor are you doing for her?” Dorian asked.

“I am merely assisting her in her dealings in Tevinter. She has need to allies who are untainted by that entire mess.”

“That ‘entire mess’,” Dorian snapped, “was the world nearly ending.”

“True enough. But, she does need allies who were not involved. She reached out to me after the Exalted Council. I don’t think she knew I was your mother.”

Oh, she most certainly knew.

“She’s quite a delightful young woman.” Aquinea nodded in approval. Obviously, Ellana was using Josephine to funnel these gifts, because Dorian sincerely doubted his mother would be as approving of the same woman who had become a Red Jenny and would occasionally pie people in the face when bored.

“Yes, she is. My best friend, in fact.”

“She referred to you as her soul mate,” Aquinea said. Dorian _knew_ his face was going to be burning the entire time he spoke with his mother. Luckily, they were almost home and he could make his excuses to lock himself in his room and have nothing to do with her the rest of the night.

“She’s married, Mother.” Dorian hoped she hadn’t gotten her hopes up.

“I know that.” Aquinea shot him a dirty look. “Commander Rutherford is quite charming in his own right. But, you can be soul mates without being partners or lovers. It doesn’t offend your lover, does it? Your connection with Inquisitor Lavellan.”

“No, he actually thinks it’s cute.” Dorian shook his head.

“Good. A jealous man is not an attractive man.”

And _that_ was just about enough. He had his mother had _never_ been close enough that they could share relationship advice. She was trying, but it was mostly just freaking Dorian out.

“I have some errands to run, darling.” Aquinea air-kissed his cheek and disengaged from his arm. “Do think about what I’ve suggested. It would be good for you.” She turned away without another word and walked across the street. Dorian watched her leave, utterly dumbfounded. He had never had the best relationship with his mother, and her sudden attachment to learning about his lover and his best friend was disconcerting to say the least. He was a bit worried she was deliberately gathering the information to manipulate him later. (What was he saying? She was _totally_ going to use this to manipulate him later.) He needed to talk to Ellana and Bull and make sure they didn’t give her any ammunition.

He walked into the mansion and lingered at the front door. He didn’t really _want_ to go to his office. He was just so tired. Maybe he should nap. But if he napped, he wouldn’t sleep tonight and then the Magisterium session would be pure agony tomorrow.

“Magister Pavus?” Dorian jumped at the quiet voice. Morven, his butler, had spotted him. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, thank you, Morven.” Dorian shook his head. It had taken nearly the whole three months he’d been home, but he’d managed to free all the slaves in his family’s employ. Some of them stayed, as they needed the funds for their families, but a few of them returned home. Still, he had enough staff for all the luxuries his mother expected, and fewer mouths to feed meant he didn’t have to scrounge for enough to money to pay the rest of the staff a living wage. It had originally upset Aquinea, and there had been a long shouting match between the two of them (in the middle of the grand staircase, which was just melodramatic enough for both of their sensibilities), but as the head of the Pavus household, Dorian had the final word on the family finances.

“Shall I draw up a bath for you, sir?” Obviously, Dorian wasn’t hiding his exhaustion very well if his butler could tell. That wasn’t a good thing, because other magisters would be able to see the same weakness. And he couldn’t afford that, not if he wanted to live to see thirty-four.

“No, thank you, Morven.” As much as Dorian would love to have a relaxing bath, he wasn’t wrong in that his work wasn’t nearly done. And, he had to have a few discussions with Ellana and Bull to make sure his mother wasn’t doing anything untoward. Not that she’d be rude, as rudeness was intolerable to the woman, but still, she was manipulative. “I’ll have supper in my office again.”

“Of course, sir.” It had taken the entirety of the three months to get Morven to call Dorian “sir” and not “master”. Morven had been a slave for a while, but he had been instrumental in helping shift Dorian’s household, so he had ensured himself a permanent position in the house.

“Thank you.” Dorian wearily climbed the grand staircase, remembering fondly of all the times he had slid down the bannister (to his mother’s chagrin). Maybe he’d do it again in the morning on the way to the Magisterium just to push her buttons. But, knowing him, he’d break an ankle or something on landing. By the time he had made it to his office, previously his father’s office, he had forgotten the mountain of papers he had left stacked on his desk. He glanced at the top paper and groaned. It would take him all evening to get through even _half_ of the stack. Maybe he should talk to Ellana and Bull first. The conversation with Ellana would go faster. He fished the crystal matching Ellana’s out of a pouch. He kept both crystals on him at all times, just in case they needed him.

“_Las’dirth_,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair. It took a few moments, but eventually Ellana’s voice issued from the crystal.

“Dorian!” Her voice was warm and joyful.

“Hello, my friend.” Dorian’s response was just as warm.

“How are you?” Ellana asked. It was nice being able to hear her voice, even if they couldn’t see each other. They were across nearly the entire continent from each other and yet they were able to speak. It made the distance seem less, somehow.

“I’ve been better.” Dorian sighed. “And you? How’s married life treating you?”

“Cullen has been bothering me like mad, trying to get me to slow down.” Ellana sighed in exasperation. “Blah blah missing arm blah blah. He thinks I’m overdoing it with the Red Jenny stuff.”

“Well, you’re a Red Jenny, you’re also the Inquisitor, meaning you’re the head of the personal guard of the Divine, and you’re searching for an ancient elven god, who thinks the best way to fix his previous mistakes is to make the exact same mistake, but in reverse. Not to mention the fact that you _are_ missing an arm. I’d say he’s got a right to be concerned,” Dorian pointed out. Ellana didn’t respond for a moment, which Dorian took to mean that she was sticking her tongue out at the crystal.

“I know _that_.” Ellana was rolling her eyes, Dorian just knew it. “But honestly, it’s so much better without the Anchor. I don’t have constant pain anymore. By the end there, it was so crippling, I considered chopping my own arm off myself.”

“I’ve no doubt of that.”

“And, I’m not overdoing it. Honestly, Divine Victoria hardly wants anything to do with me. She agreed with having us being her personal guard as a favor to me, but she’s not forcing us to do anything. And, the Inquisition is just a front for me to gather information about Solas to try to find a way to convince him to stop his madness. So, the whole ‘personal guard’ and ‘Inquisition’ thing is just the same as trying to stop Solas. And, the Red Jenny stuff helps me de-stress. It reminds me what I’m fighting for.”

“I thought your dear nieces and nephews reminded you what you’re fighting for.”

“Well, they’re cute, too,” Ellana chuckled, “but, we don’t get to see them very often. I’ve been busy.”

“You should take some time off.” Dorian was well-aware of the irony of what he was saying, considering he was blatantly ignoring that advice. “Like take a week and just relax with Cullen. It’ll help you de-stress and it should help him relax, too.”

“I will if you will,” Ellana replied, quickly. How she had known, Dorian had no idea.

“I don’t need time off,” Dorian lied, “the Magisterium is still in session and the current discussion is the first step in my attempt to thwart corruption. I can’t take time off while this is happening.”

“You’ve been working like crazy for three months now. Once they vote to approve your new initiative, you’ll have to slow down and let them get used to the new status quo. It might be a few years before you can start the next step. They’ll give you this to get you to shut up, so you’ll have to be careful in planning when to push for your next step. It’ll give you time to work up more clout and power so that when you push for something bigger, they’ll feel more obligated to accept it.”

Dorian stared at his crystal for a long moment. Ellana had always shown to be intelligent, but she hadn’t been raised in the Game. While she was the Inquisitor, she faked it pretty well, but because she hadn’t lived it, she had never fully grasped the Game.

“Did Josephine tell you all that?”

Ellana burst out laughing, telling Dorian he was completely accurate in his assessment.

“Sorry, Dor. You’ve been telling me about all this stuff, and some of it makes sense to me, but then I need to talk to Josephine to help decipher the rest of it.”

“Well, as long as she doesn’t mind hearing about all the drama of Tevinter.”

“Honestly, I think she loves hearing about it. I think she’d like to be part of your court for a while, if she could, just to try out her skills up there,” Ellana confessed.

“Well, she’s more than welcome to visit.” Dorian knew that having the woman’s eyes on his problems would only give him a leg up on his enterprise. Josephine was incredibly adept at the Game and at reading situations. Even if she only visited for a short time, she could prove invaluable for his efforts. “Assuming you’re not keeping her busy.”

“Well, she’s managing her family’s estate and shipping business while working tirelessly for me and she _still_ has time to explain to me the intricacies of Tevinter politics. You know, she might actually be bored.”

“Well, we can’t have _that_,” Dorian chuckled.

“I’ll let her know she has an invitation to visit,” Ellana promised, “You know how she is. She’ll probably reach out to you herself to solidify details if she really wants to come.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, let’s talk about something more important,” Ellana prodded, “you should take a break after the Magisterium is out of session.”

“Ellana…”

“You haven’t seen Bull in three months. I know it’s driving you nuts. You should take time off, travel down to Orlais, it’s not even that far, and see him. I know he’s doing jobs on the northern border of Orlais right now."

“You’re the third person to suggest that to me today.” Dorian sighed.

“Then it must be good advice.”

“One person was my mother.” It wasn’t a great segue. It wasn’t even a _good_ segue, but it was the best Dorian had. He had to make sure Ellana wasn’t getting into bed with Aquinea Thalrassian blindly.

“Yes. I’ve spoken with her. In letters.” Ellana didn’t even sound _remotely_ ashamed.

“Why?”

“Because she is a magister in her own right and she has many contacts in Tevinter to help me ensure there’s no trail taking information back to Solas,” Ellana explained, “he knows you and he probably has spies on you, since we’re so close. So, I couldn’t speak with you. Your mother had sent me letters when you were still down here, mostly making sure I was taking care of you, so we had already established correspondence. Don’t worry; I have Josephine making sure I don’t do anything stupid like promise her my firstborn or something.”

Well, if Josephine was involved, Ellana was keeping his mother at arm’s distance. It was probably Josephine’s idea to send a gift basket for Aquinea’s birthday. It made Dorian feel better.

“You have a firstborn?” Dorian teased.

“No.” Ellana was scowling at him, he could tell.

“Not yet.”

“You sound like my husband,” Ellana snapped, “I’m _not_ having a child while Solas is trying to destroy the world!”

“Easy, Ell.” Dorian bit back his chuckles. “I’m just teasing.”

“I know.” She huffed out an impatient breath. “Cullen _really_ wants kids.”

“You don’t?”

“I do. But I can’t bring a child into this world knowing there’s someone trying to end it.”

“Well, I think that’s entirely justified,” Dorian said, primly, “It’s the smart decision.”

“Thank you.”

They sat in companionable silence for several long minutes.

“I’m serious about taking a break, Dor.”

“I know, Ell.”

“If you don’t, I’ll come up there and make you.”

“I know.”

“Ellana?” A strong, male voice echoed from the crystal.

“One moment.” Ellana’s voice was muffled, like she covered the crystal. “I’ll talk to you later, Dor.”

“Is that Cullen?” Dorian asked, “Might I have a word with him?”

“Why?” Ellana was instantly suspicious.

“It’s a surprise for you. Now, let me speak with him.”

Ellana huffed out an impatient breath.

“Dorian?” Cullen asked, softly, “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been doing some research that I think Dagna will find very useful,” Dorian said, carefully, aware that Ellana could still be listening, “I’ll forward it to you. Let her know that if she needs assistance in any way, I’m more than happy to help.”

“Of course.” Cullen’s voice was tight. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, I think this research will work. It’s got sound logic and it’s been successful before.”

Cullen let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Dorian.”

“Of course.”

“What’s _that_ all about?” Ellana must’ve snatched the crystal back. “What research?”

“You won’t find it interesting,” Dorian lied, “it’s something Dagna and I have been discussing for a while. But Dagna forgets to leave her workshop to check for letters sometimes, so I’ve been corresponding with Cullen to make sure she gets it.”

“I’m just passing letters along,” Cullen said, calmly, which was blatantly false. Ellana would _murder_ them when she found out what was _really_ going on.

“I’ll find out sooner or later,” Ellana threatened.

“Go ask Dagna,” Dorian suggested, “she’s _always_ forthcoming with her research. It’s much too complicated to get into now. I’ll let you both go. I am quite a busy man, after all.” Dagna wouldn’t tell. Dorian and Cullen had sworn her to secrecy until they had results.

“Take care of yourself, Dor,” Ellana ordered.

“If you ever need assistance, we can have Inquisition forces there in a week,” Cullen added.

“I doubt the Imperium would take kindly on the Inquisition invading,” Dorian said, dryly.

“We’re more of a token task force at the moment,” Cullen replied, “We don’t have enough people to invade _anyone_, which was precisely the point of the Exalted Council.”

“But what we _do_ have are plenty of spies, who can get in and out of Tevinter without being noticed,” Ellana interrupted, “and you’re still a member of the Inquisition, Dor, since you never formally left us. So, I have every right to allocate my resources to assist you.”

She was so devious sometimes, it was incredible.


	27. Making Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm a complete mess, as is my son. I wanted to get this out as soon as it was done, so if there's any spelling/grammatical errors: don't fret, I will be fixing them in the coming days. There will be more to come after this! After the past few months I've had, though, I make no promises as to when.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

It took approximately seven seconds for Bull to answer the sending crystal.

“Kadan!”

It was instantaneous. Dorian’s face broke into a bright grin. He was glad he was behind closed doors because _no_ magister should be seen grinning like an utter idiot at their lover’s voice.

“Amatus.” Dorian knew his voice was eager, but Bull’s was practically exuberant. It wasn’t really warranted though, when they spoke through the sending crystal on a near-daily basis. But it warmed Dorian through every time Bull sounded so _excited_ to speak with him. As soon as Bull confirmed it was Dorian he was speaking with, he launched into a story of the most recent job he and the Chargers had gotten involved in. It involved giant spiders, an inordinate amount of deathroot, fifteen casks of ale, a variety of candles, and ended with Bull, wearing nothing but his vitaar, running away from the spiders in question. By the time he finished, Dorian was laughing so hard, he had started crying (which was just unfortunate because his kohl was now likely running down his face and he didn’t have a mirror in his office to fix it).

“Anyway, so how’ve you been, kadan?” Bull asked. Dorian took a moment to try to wipe his face clean before considering his answer.

“I’ve been dealing with the Magisterium for the past three straight days.”

“Ah, so you’re tired and irritable.”

“I’m not irritable!”

“Of course.” Bull was placating him and it was irksome.

“Maevaris and my mother want me to take some time off when the Magisterium isn’t in session. There’s a minimum of a few weeks between sessions so everyone can go to their home estates and manage their individual businesses,” Dorian said.

“Good. You need time off. You’re working too hard, kadan.”

“_I’m_ not running away from giant spiders while nude.”

“No, you’re dealing with magisters, which is _infinitely_ worse.”

“Look, can we talk about something _else_?” Dorian was whining and they both knew it. “I’m getting enough of this from my mother.”

“No, I like this conversation. Particularly the part where it’s suggested that you take some time off.” Bull was frowning.

“If I take time off, I won’t be able to spend it here. I’ll just pick up the work all over again. I have to get away.”

Bull was silent for a moment.

“I know a little inn on the Orlesian side of the border. I helped save the owner’s life. We can book out the whole place, cheap,” he said, slowly.

Dorian considered the idea. It was safer for them both in Orlais. And, if they rented the whole place, they would be able to be alone. It was the most attractive reason for him to abandon his work that he’d ever heard. He wanted to be alone with Bull _so badly_. It wasn’t fair that they couldn’t see each other. His country wasn’t fair. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. It was getting long. He kept the sides shorn close to his scalp, but the top was becoming lengthy.

“Amatus…”

“You’re going to say ‘no’ because of some selfless reason like you need to work or something.” Bull sighed, loudly. “And, I’m asking you, as your amatus, meet me in Orlais.”

Dorian had always been bad at saying “no” to Bull on a good day, much less when he actually wanted what Bull was suggesting.

“Fine.”

Bull released another sigh. He had been anxious Dorian wouldn’t change his mind.

“But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right,” Dorian continued, “If we’re going to meet, I’m going to be loud, so we need the whole inn. And a couple days isn’t enough. It’ll be at least three weeks between sessions. I need at least four days just for travel. And another week to manage my estate. So, we have a week.”

“That can be arranged.” Bull was grinning like an idiot, Dorian could hear it. “Do you know when?”

“We’re on the third day of opening arguments.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “It’ll be another day at least before we get into heavy debates. And that’ll be a week. Then, we’ll have the vote. It’ll be two weeks probably. If we’re lucky. So, give me three to get things settled in my estate and travel down there.”

“Three weeks it is, kadan.”

Dorian loved hearing the pleasure in Bull’s voice. It felt good, having these plans. He hoped nothing upset them. Ugh. And _now_, he was thinking of all the things that _could_ interrupt their plans. One day, he might have Ellana’s optimism. Somehow, he sincerely doubted that day would ever arrive.

“My mother wishes to correspond with you,” Dorian abruptly remembered.

“Okay.” Bull didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest.

“Okay?” Dorian stared at the blood red crystal, incredulously. “Amatus, you are _not_ going to start sending letters to my _mother_!”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s manipulative and she wants something from you and I don’t know what it is yet.”

“Maybe she just wants to make sure you’re happy and we’re a good fit.”

Dorian scoffed so hard he thought he’d fall out of his chair.

“Kadan…”

“She loves me, I know that,” Dorian tried to explain, “but, she’s always been shit at showing it. And she’s been a magister a long time. She’s barely keeping it together knowing that I’m gay. If she found out you’re a Qunari, her head would explode. Possibly literally. She _will_ try to manipulate you and she _will_ try to abuse the knowledge of your race. She can’t help herself.”

“I was Ben Hassrath for a long time, kadan. I can spot manipulation miles away.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Don’t you want your mother and lover to accept each other?” Bull asked, innocently.

“I thought we were married at this point.” Dorian ignored the question entirely.

“According to _my_ culture. _Your_ culture doesn’t even acknowledge that we could be together, even if we _were_ straight.”

“I’m trying to fix it!”

“You can’t end a centuries-long conflict just like that, kadan.”

“No, but I can make some progress in making my country less intolerant.”

Bull didn’t speak for a long moment. Dorian shifted uncomfortably.

“You sound stressed.”

The non-sequitur made Dorian’s head spin.

“I’m a little stressed,” he allowed.

“I can fix that.” Bull’s grin was evident in his tone.

“How?” Dorian glowered at his crystal, as if Bull could see it.

“What are you wearing?”

Dorian flushed bright red and was thankful his lover couldn’t see it, because Bull would tease him _mercilessly_.

“What?” His voice cracked. Damn it all.

“Tell me what you’re wearing, kadan.” Bull’s voice was gentle, but dark, making it an order rather than a request.

“Uh…” Dorian looked down at his clothes. “Just my normal robes, I guess. It’s a bit more ornamental than what I wore down there, because it’s warmer up here and so I can do with more fashion and less substance. I usually wear a robe to the Magisterium, but I took it off because I’m home and…”

Bull chuckled, making Dorian realize he was rambling like an utter idiot.

“Let me guess: it has more buckles than necessary.”

“It actually has _less_ buckles, thank you very much.” Dorian cleared his throat nervously. “It’s got gold threading and designs. Jewelry is all the rage right now, so I’ve got some earrings and bangles. I might still be a pariah, but I’m the most fashionable mage in the Magisterium.”

“Less buckles?” Bull’s voice was low and dangerous. A thrill of excitement slid up Dorian’s spine. “Are you showing _more_ of that delicious skin, kadan?”

“No,” Dorian squeaked out, desire thrumming through his veins, “about the same amount, just less utilitarian.”

“So, you’re saying if I were to be there right now, I could literally rip the clothes from your body?”

Dorian choked on air, his whole body jerking in surprise at Bull’s words. Maker knew how badly he wanted Bull to literally rip his clothes off. He’d ripped Dorian’s smallclothes plenty of times, but Dorian had worn leather in the south, which wasn’t something Bull could rip with his bare hands (he’d tried). He was certain Bull’s words had never been so arousing. Somehow, because he wasn’t physically there, and all Dorian could focus on was his voice (his Maker-forsaken, glorious _voice_), he could focus more on his body and its reactions. He was so blessedly hard, it was starting to hurt, yet his nerves were still on high alert. His door was shut, but he hadn’t locked it, and his mother barely hesitated after knocking.

“I know what I have to do when I see you next,” Bull chuckled.

“These clothes are expensive and hand-made from silk and–”

“And they’ll look just as pretty ripped apart and strewn all over the floor,” Bull interrupted Dorian. Dorian’s chest heaved as he struggled to keep himself in check. Bull was fucking with him. He wouldn’t give in. “But that’s not what’s going to happen right now, kadan.”

“What, pray tell, is going to happen right now?” Dorian asked, voice remarkably stable for how much his body trembled with anticipation.

“We’re going to play a game.” Bull’s voice was solid and steady, sounding all the world like he was unaffected by this little game he was playing. “I’m going to tell you what to do, no cheating and doing things I haven’t said, either, kadan. And you’re going to tell me what you’re picturing in your head. Deal?”

It took Dorian a few precious seconds to get his brain to hear everything Bull had said, make sense of it, and shiver in reaction. He swallowed tightly and tried to find the right words. Or, really, _any_ words would do. He cleared his throat and glanced at the solid wooden door separating his office from the rest of the mansion. Honestly, he had been caught in stranger and more inappropriate positions during his wayward youth, but still, he was a _magister_ and that required certain proprieties be observed.

“Let me lock the door,” Dorian agreed, his voice dry.

“No.” Bull’s staunch refusal kept Dorian in his seat. “If anyone walks in, I want them to see how wrecked you are just from my voice. They need to know that _you are mine_.” Dorian’s breath caught and he struggled with that for a moment. Bull probably figured, as the master of the house, he wouldn’t be interrupted, which was the most likely scenario. Because Bull was too jealous to just _let_ Dorian be watched by other people, no matter how much Dorian enjoyed it.

“Amatus…” Dorian hesitated, still eyeing the door carefully.

“I want to make you cum so hard that your eyes roll back in your head. That’s my favorite look on you, by the way. When you’re so blissfully fucked out that you can’t even see straight.” Bull ignored Dorian’s hesitation entirely.

“I don’t… it’s…” Dorian struggled to find words.

“What are you doing right now?” Bull asked.

“Sitting. At my desk,” Dorian choked out.

“I’d love to bend you over that desk right now, kadan.” Bull’s words drew a groan from Dorian’s lips. He could imagine the need and desperation that would push Bull such drastic measures. It would be extraordinary. “I haven’t decided exactly how, yet. Which would you prefer, if I shove your back on the top of your desk, scattering your paperwork everywhere while you grab at me, trying to keep yourself centered? Or if I pushed your chest onto the desk, tying up your arms, holding you still and just using you as my own personal fuck toy?”

Dorian couldn’t help the wanton moan. Oh, fuck, did he want both scenarios. He couldn’t pick which one was better. He slumped down even further in his chair, spreading his legs wide. His hand unconsciously palmed his erection through his pants, forcing a little hitch in his breath.

“Kadan…” Bull’s sing-song held a warning note in it. Dorian’s mind snapped back into focus. He balled his hand into a fist and heaved out an inpatient sigh. Bull hadn’t given him permission to touch yet.

“I want both.” Dorian’s voice was utterly wrecked and he hadn’t even _done_ anything yet.

“So greedy. I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I?” Bull chuckled.

“You love it.” Dorian stretched his legs out, trying to get a little more comfortable in his chair. His arousal was doing _nothing_ to help him.

“You know what I’d love more?”

Dorian hummed a question in response, unable to find his voice yet again. When Bull asked him that question with so much innuendo it _hurt_, he struggled to keep himself in check. Bull hadn’t said he could touch yet, but Dorian was going to lose the battle with his self-control before long. He hadn’t had enough Bull in so long. And, while they’d talked daily, they’d never done… _this_.

“I’d love it if you pinched your nipples through the fabric of your shirt.”

Dorian actually _whimpered_ at the mere _suggestion_. They both knew his nipples were directly connected to his desire. It wasn’t fair that Bull was going to push his self-control _already_. Dorian was barely holding on listening to the sex in his lover’s voice, let alone touching himself. Still, Dorian could never resist Bull, so he obligingly plucked at his nipples through the silk fabric of his shirt. It should have dulled the sensation, but the silk was so gentle and smooth on his nipples that it doubled the sensation. He moaned and arched his back into his own hands. Fuck, he was so sensitive. He was going to lose himself entirely before Bull was done with him.

“Oh, fuck…” Bull groaned in response, “You’re so fuckin’ hot, kadan. I want to hear every little noise you make. Gonna make you scream tonight.”

“Amatus…” Dorian whined, “Don’t make me do this alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Bull promised, “I’m already naked. My cock is so hard it hurts, kadan. Leaking everywhere already and I haven’t even touched myself yet. If you were here, I’d have you wrap your pretty lips around me just to watch you suck my cock. You’re such a good cocksucker, kadan.”

The image came unbidden into Dorian’s head. He’d never gotten quite so much enjoyment out of blowjobs as much as when Bull was panting and swearing and praising him. Dorian could almost see it: Bull standing next to him, still lounging in his chair, with his fingers buried in Dorian’s hair and forcing his thick, hard cock to the back of Dorian’s throat, testing his gag reflex with his girth…

“Yes,” Bull hissed out his agreement. Dorian realized he’d spoken out loud.

“Maker, I want you so bad, amatus.” Dorian was still rubbing and playing with his nipples, but it felt like _so much more_.

“I can just imagine you, sitting there, face all red and pretty for me while you try to keep yourself still. You know you’ll get in trouble if you don’t obey me.” Bull’s voice was a gravely growl. Dorian trembled in his chair, the excitement and nervousness and anticipation all mashing up into a cocktail of arousal.

“Please.” Dorian didn’t even know what he was asking for anymore.

“Shhh. It’s okay, kadan.” Bull took a deep breath and released it. _He_ was getting too excited, too. “I want you to slide your pants down. Tell me what your gorgeous cock looks like.”

“S-so hard.” Dorian shucked his pants down to his ankles and dug his fingers into his thighs to keep himself from touching what he wasn’t supposed to. “Fuck, I’m leaking everywhere. _Fuck_, I need to cum so bad.”

“You’re going to cum, kadan,” Bull promised, “shut your eyes. Put your hand around your cock. Imagine it’s me, stroking you, while you turn into a writhing mess beneath me.”

At one touch, Dorian cried out. He was so sensitive he almost came right then and there.

“Slower,” Bull ordered. Dorian whined, slowing his hand to a stop. He was going to _murder_ Bull when they saw each other next. That was just the only option left to him. “Good boy.” The words made Dorian moan wantonly. He was such a cheap date.

“Oh, fuck me.”

“Soon, kadan,” Bull swore, “bend over your desk. I wanna see your ass.”

Dorian nearly fell over in his haste to get up and drop his chest down onto the furniture. His papers slid around, falling off the desk and shuffling the piles together. Dorian couldn’t bring himself to care. He braced his hands on the wood and dropped his forehead down, trying to keep his breathing from becoming frantic. For one hysterical moment, he was _sure_ he was about to feel Bull’s hot, calloused hands touching him. He took a deep breath and sighed it out. He was just sensitive from lack of intimacy. That was all.

“Good boy.” Bull couldn’t see him, Dorian _knew_ that, but it didn’t feel like there was half a continent between them anymore. “I can’t wait to fill you up, kadan. Gonna stretch you out until you scream then fill you until you can’t hold anymore cum.”

“Ah, fuck,” Dorian muttered. He hadn’t done anything like this with Bull before, but that didn’t mean he allowed himself to be chaste. His hands dragged a drawer open and blindly groped for the dildo and oil he kept hidden there. The first time he’d indulged himself in the office, he felt guilty for doing such profane things in _his father’s office_. Then, he remembered all the horrid things his parents forced him to do and tried to break out of him and the guilt went away.

“Do you have _toys_ there, kadan?” Bull sounded positively _delighted_. “In your _desk_? Kinky.”

“It’s just a dildo.” Dorian stumbled over his words.

Bull cursed softly.

“It’s not _you_, but it’s better than nothing,” Dorian continued, “I just… _fuck_, I need…”

“I know.” Something in Bull’s tone told Dorian that he _did_ know. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can’t sit down when I get my hands on you.”

“I don’t think that’s much of a punishment,” Dorian replied, taking the time to slick the leather-wrapped rod with the oil.

“It’s not,” Bull chuckled, “I changed my mind, kadan. I want you to ride me.”

Bull didn’t have to give Dorian any further instructions. His dildo had a wide, flat base that made it perfect for standing up on its own. He put it on the chair and roughly stretched himself open, not even bothering to find his prostate. Bull’s voice was more than enough to put him over the edge, he didn’t need additional assistance from his own body.

“Good boy,” Bull groaned, “fuck, I’m so hard for you, kadan. Don’t think I’ve ever been harder. I wouldn’t even need oil right now, I’m leaking so much.”

Dorian shivered. He held himself over his dildo, unsure if he actually had gotten permission to fuck himself silly or not.

“Are you waiting for me?” Bull asked with a low chuckle.

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Dorian whimpered at the praise. Everything was too much. He needed release _now_ or he’d go completely mad. Luckily, Bull didn’t leave him waiting.

“Fuck yourself, kadan. I want to hear _everything_.”

Dorian didn’t even hesitate at Bull’s order. He let his weight press him onto his dildo, filling himself up in a much less satisfying way that Bull could. Still, it was better than nothing. Dorian shifted forward a bit so there was pressure on his prostate and moaned loudly. Bull groaned in response. Dorian could hear the rhythmic and slick sound of a hand on a cock. It made him _more_ aroused, if possible.

“Fuck me, amatus,” Dorian groaned, unable to keep himself silent any longer as he lifted and dropped his body onto his dildo, “I’m trying to pretend this thing is you but you’re _so fucking big_. There’s no comparison. You always fill me so much I can hardly breathe. I need your cock splitting me in half. It’s not fair that you get to keep your cock all to yourself when we’re apart. Maker, I need you. Need you fucking me raw. Bent over the desk. Tied up. Gagged. Fucking fuck. _Please_.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot right now,” Bull replied, “don’t touch your cock, kadan. I want you to cum the way you always do on me: untouched and screaming.”

“_Fuck_.”

“That’s the idea. Keep going. Ride me. Squeeze your perfect ass around my hard cock.”

Dorian obeyed without even thinking, forcing the dildo to press against his prostate hard. He cried out, fingers digging into the arm rests of his chair. He would probably leave little scratches in the wood. His mother would _kill_ him for ruining the mahogany, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment.

“Ah, _fuck_,” Dorian swore, shutting his eyes. He could imagine that Bull was there in the room, watching him come apart as he rode the dildo. Bull would start off lounging across the room, stroking his cock, eye boring into Dorian’s soul. But as things got heated, he would stand up, move across the room and invade Dorian’s space, praising him and touching him, anchoring them both to that moment. Dorian didn’t know how things would end, as Bull’s mood would determine that. If he was in a good mood, he’d probably just cum all over Dorian, deliberately keeping them from touching. If he was in a bad mood, he’d likely face-fuck Dorian to completion. If he was feeling desperate, he’d pull Dorian off the dildo, hoist him up onto his hips, and fill him up properly.

“Fuckin’ hell, kadan,” Bull gasped out, the slick sounds from the crystal coming faster and faster. Dorian didn’t know he’d been talking out loud again. “You close?”

“So close,” Dorian breathed, keeping his eyes squeezed shut to maintain that fantasy, “gonna cum so hard.”

“Good boy,” Bull was breathless, too, “cum for me.”

Dorian felt a scream get caught in his chest as he dropped down onto the dildo. His entire body shook violently while he gasped for air. His cock throbbed, shooting out stream after stream of semen. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he recognized the sounds of Bull’s own completion echoing through the crystal. His orgasm lasted for what felt like forever. He painted his father’s desk with spunk. When his cock relaxed finally, twitching in aftershocks, he collapsed in the chair, unable to hold himself upright any longer.

“Damn. That was…” Bull breathed out, slowly.

“Yeah,” Dorian agreed. He rolled to one hip so he could pull the dildo free with a low groan. He tossed it on the desk and resettled in the chair. He had forgotten about the low ache in his back and butt from penetration. It was much milder than when Bull filled him, but that was due to the size difference. The dildo was probably sized for an average human.

Dorian took a moment to appreciate how horrendous the room looked. His papers were strewn about like there was a fight, the desk was covered in cum (not to mention some of the papers that had gotten caught in the crossfire), and there was a dildo, standing proudly in the midst of it all. Dorian knew he looked like a mess: completely disheveled and collapsed in the chair with his pants around his ankles. He glanced down. His clothes had not survived the encounter. Damn.

“If my mother walks in right now, I swear to the Maker, I will _murder you_,” he decided. Bull laughed.

“If your mother walks in right now, I’ll probably have to come rescue you from her wrath.”

“Honestly, this isn’t even the worse thing she’s walked in on,” Dorian noted, “my steward, on the other hand, well, he’d be traumatized.”

“We should do that more often, kadan.” Bull sounded like the cat that got the canary.

“If we do that with any sort of frequency, I’ll have to tell my staff to avoid my office forever.” Dorian sighed, looking at the mess. In _no_ universe would he be comfortable with someone cleaning _this_ up after him. He was born and raised with a silver spoon in his mouth, but some messes were personal.

“Well, we could always do this in your bedroom. I haven’t seen it. Is the bed big?”

“Big enough for you to get lost,” Dorian chuckled. The bed _was_ large enough that two Qunari of Bull’s size could fit side-by-side without touching each other. It was decadence and extravagance and instead all Dorian wanted was that little bed back in Skyhold where he and Bull had to lay on top of each other to fit.

“I can’t wait to see you, kadan.” The fondness in Bull’s voice wasn’t new, but it still made Dorian’s insides turn to jelly every time he heard it.

“Three weeks, amatus,” Dorian promised.

He could _hear_ the grin on Bull’s face.


	28. Vacation

Trepidation filled Dorian’s chest. He had no idea why. It was _Bull_. Bull, his lover, the person who knew him better than anyone else in Thedas (sorry, Ellana), the man who made him feel loved, _truly_ loved for the first time in his life, the man who would gladly throw himself in front of a dragon to keep him safe (and he had, on multiple occasions). Why Dorian would feel _any_ apprehension made no sense. But still… he couldn’t stop this irrational fear that Bull would be different. That somewhere, deep inside, what they had before wouldn’t work anymore. That _they_ wouldn’t work anymore.

And as soon as he _thought_ it, he was petrified of opening the door to that damn inn. It was small, which was fine. In Dorian’s experience, he and Bull didn’t even need a _bed_. All those times in that tiny-ass tent made the inn seem like a palace. But, Dorian knew that Bull was on the other side of that door. And if things weren’t the same as before… It might just break Dorian. And he didn’t think he could be fixed from that kind of damage.

Still, he couldn’t spend all day on the doorstep. Bull knew he was arriving shortly, since Dorian had spoken with him on the sending crystal only a few hours prior. If Dorian didn’t show, Bull would go out searching for him, probably assuming something bad had happened to Dorian. It wasn’t fair to put Bull through that just because Dorian was anxious. Besides, this was _Bull_. Chances were, he _knew_ what was going through Dorian’s mind.

“Kadan.” The deep voice sent prickles along the back of Dorian’s neck, making the little hairs there stand on end. As soon as he heard Bull’s voice, that tight fear in his chest relaxed and pure relief filled him. He spun around and threw himself bodily at his Qunari. Bull’s arms wrapped around him, pulling Dorian tight against him. Dorian took a deep breath, letting himself get lost in Bull’s scent. Inexplicably, tears burned in his eyes. If he could stay wrapped up in Bull for the rest of his life, he’d be happy.

“See? Everything exactly as it was before,” Bull murmured. Dorian huffed out an irritated sigh that was way more watery than he intended.

“How do you _do_ that?” Dorian asked.

“You’re predictable.” Bull pulled back enough to look Dorian over, his eye sharp and perceptive. “You look good, kadan.” Dorian knew his hair had grown out, but he didn’t think he looked _that_ different. Bull looked almost exactly the same, with the exception of a few more scars. Dorian would have to test their sensitivity later.

“Of course I look good,” Dorian replied, preening a bit, “I’ve finally been in a place where people actually have taste.”

“I’m not talkin’ about the clothes, kadan.” Bull’s focus was all on Dorian’s face. Heat flooded Dorian at the look. How many times had he seen that _exact_ expression on his Qunari’s face in the midst of sex? It wasn’t fair, because Dorian just _knew_ Bull was abusing his knowledge. (He was pretty sure it wasn’t a bad thing, though.)

“I’m done waiting.” Dorian pressed up on his toes, pulling Bull’s head down to kiss him. Bull’s arms wrapped around Dorian’s waist again, pulling him off his feet. Dorian pulled his head back a scant inch. “I’ve missed you, amatus.”

“I’ve missed you, too, kadan.” Bull’s voice was rough with emotion or lust (Dorian couldn’t tell).

“Fix it.”

“On it.”

Bull somehow managed to get the front door open, shuffle inside, and shut the door behind him without detaching himself from Dorian. Then, things got messy. Dorian dropped his staff and pack, promptly spilling just about everything all over the floor. Bull literally ripped the clothes from Dorian’s body. Luckily, Dorian anticipated that reaction and brought _way_ more clothes than was strictly necessary. Neither of them paid any attention to the mess because Bull grabbed Dorian, sitting him on the bar. His large hand pushed on Dorian’s chest, sending him sprawling. Bull didn’t wait for Dorian to get his bearings. He just began worshipping Dorian’s body with his tongue, earning very vocal praise from his lover. Dorian was so touch-starved that he came within a minute of Bull’s ministrations. Not that Bull minded, because he took his sweet time licking Dorian’s skin clean, which just got Dorian excited all over again. Bull wouldn’t stop touching Dorian for anything, so when they needed oil, which was _not_ nearby, Bull hauled Dorian onto his hips and carried him along.

The next thing Dorian knew, he was bent over a table, being thoroughly filled and begging for more, _harder, amatus!_ Once they got going, Bull somehow coaxed another orgasm from Dorian before finishing himself, swearing breathlessly as his body trembled with aftershocks. Dorian whimpered when Bull pulled out, his overly-sensitive nerves protesting. Bull hauled Dorian over his shoulder, grabbed the bottle of oil, and brought them both to a bedroom. Once settled in an entangled, sweaty mess on the bed, Dorian finally felt himself relax. It was the first time since returning home that he felt truly _safe_ and _comfortable_. The deep ache in his back and butt just made him finally feel like he’d come home.

“I hope you’re not tired, yet.” Bull’s hot fingers kept touching and trailing fire alone Dorian’s skin. “I’ve got plans, kadan.”

“Oh, goodie.” Dorian sighed, running his fingers along a new scar on Bull’s side. “_Plans_.”

“It’s been four months, kadan. If I was insatiable before, I’ve gotten _way_ worse in the wait.”

“I’m not complaining, amatus.”

One week and an improbable amount of sex later, Dorian was blissfully fucked out. His entire body relaxed languidly across the bed. The rest of that first night was spent barely sleeping. Dorian had thought _he_ was desperate for Bull’s touch, but Bull refused to stop touching Dorian no matter what. When they got hungry, Bull carried him down to fetch the food from the kitchen. When one of them had to use the chamber pot, Bull held his hand. It was kind of adorable. And a little weird, too.

After a week of nonstop _Bull_, Dorian was sore, boneless, and satiated in the best way. Bull was propped up on his side, his eye watching Dorian avidly. His hot fingers trailed up and down Dorian’s spine, keeping him in the wonderful post-coital relaxation. Dorian pillowed his head on his arms and looked at his lover. The only thing that Bull allowed them to wear throughout that week were their necklaces (as proved by the fact that he kept ripping Dorian’s clothes whenever Dorian attempted to put even smallclothes on). The dragon’s tooth made Dorian smile every time he saw it and it gave Bull that big, silly grin whenever he focused on it.

“We have to do this again, amatus.” Dorian sighed, trying to keep himself from drooling.

“As often as I can get you to leave Tevinter,” Bull agreed. It was disgustingly adoring and Dorian loved it.

“The Magisterium will be in session for a while,” Dorian groaned, stretching out, “someone is trying to get this notion passed that people who’ve paid off their indentures should still be kept as slaves, because they entered that service. It’ll be highly contentious and everyone will act like someone pissed in their wine.”

“What’s going to happen?” Bull asked.

“It won’t pass, because the other classes would revolt if it did. Even though we’re all mages, we still respect the power of numbers. We have all the power, technically, but if the masses decided to revolt, we’d be in for a tough fight. And, _if_ we won, we’d lose the people, which loses our servants and slaves and magisters are whiny children if they don’t get to have things done _for_ them.”

“Mm-hm. I know _that_,” Bull teased. Dorian grinned and rolled over to pull Bull down into a kiss.

“Are you saying I’m a whiny child?”

“I’m saying you’re perfect for me, kadan.”

Dorian would never, on pain of death, admit that he melted every time Bull said that.

“Ugh. Way to ruin the fun by being serious.”

“But, yeah, you’re a whiney child.”

They’d had sex every conceivable way throughout that week, and still Dorian never felt more satisfied than when Bull kissed him with _that grin_. The one had hadn’t found a name for. The one reserved for Dorian and Dorian alone. The one that made him turn into a human ball of mush.

“I’ll have you know that I’m _still_ needier than you,” Dorian pointed out.

“Sorry, I thought that the ‘amatus, I’m trying to _sleep_’ thing proved that I’m needier than you.”

“We’d been awake for two straight days!”

“Yeah, but I was ready to go again and you weren’t. So, I’m needier.”

“We still ended up fucking.”

Bull thought about that for a moment, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he recalled _exactly_ how they had fucked.

“Call it a draw, then.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I’m _adorable_.”

“Ugh. Why am I in love with you again?”

“Let me remind you.” Bull rolled on top of Dorian, making him laugh.

“I love you for more than sex, amatus.”

“Yeah, but the sex is good, kadan.”

“The sex is _great_.”

Bull kissed Dorian.

“At some point, I’m supposed to give you a letter from my mother,” Dorian abruptly remembered. Bull sighed and rolled off him, sensing that sex (at least for the moment) was not going to happen.

“Do you not want me to talk to your mother?” He asked.

“She’s manipulative and devious and she’s showing _way_ too much interest in my personal life. It’s… unnatural. The last time she took this sort of interest in my life, she and I had a nice long discussion about why I needed to stay engaged to my fiancé and why being gay was unnatural and unnecessary for my life.” Dorian shrugged. “It was quite alarming to my young mind at the time. Of course, this was _before_ my father tried to use blood magic to pull the gay out of me.”

Bull took his time swallowing that information.

“I know this is just me being paranoid, but I have to ask, kadan,” Bull said, seriously, “are you safe around her?”

“She’s one of the most powerful mages in the Magisterium,” Dorian replied, dryly, “she’s quite dangerous. Ellana sent her poisonous herbs for her birthday and my mother spoke about how _sweet_ that was. But, I don’t think she’d hurt me. Not physically. She was as upset by my father’s actions as I was, I think.”

Bull heaved out a sigh.

“If you’re sure, kadan.”

“I’m sure.” Dorian leaned up on his elbows, pressing a kiss to the corner of Bull’s mouth. “I know this is hard for you, but I’m fine, amatus. I’m safe, I promise.”

“No, you’re safe if you’re here, locked up in this inn with me until everyone forgets that we exist,” Bull replied, “but, since that’s not happening, I’ll accept that you can take care of yourself.”

“Thank you for that vote of confidence,” Dorian snipped, dryly.

“You’re welcome.” Bull ignored the sarcasm to play with the long strands of Dorian’s hair. “You didn’t answer my question, kadan.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you not want me to talk to your mother?”

“No,” Dorian said, immediately, “you’re safe if you’re as far from that woman as physically possible and she dies before learning your name. But since _that’s_ not happening, I’ll accept that your communications are none of my business.”

“Oh, ha ha ha.” Bull rolled his eye. “You know, you try to sound biting and mean, but I know you’re just a big ball of mush under all that, so it’s not very effective.”

“Seriously, amatus.” Dorian caught his eye. “If you want to speak with my mother, I can’t stop you. I just want you to be cautious with her. She’s always planning something. _Always._ And she’ll make you think she’s doing you a favor, but in reality, you’ve just walked straight into her hands.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Why do you want to talk to her so badly, anyway?” Dorian lounged back on the bed.

“She wrote me a letter.” Bull shrugged. “And I’ve heard stories from you. I’m curious.”

“That curiosity will get you killed one day.” Dorian kept his tone light, to make sure Bull knew he was teasing.

“That’s rich coming from the guy who helped _invent time magic_.”

“Touché.” Dorian sighed and stretched on the bed. “I have to leave in the morning, amatus.”

“I know.” Bull didn’t seem concerned. “That means I have all night to tide you over until you come back to me.”

As much as Dorian needed to sleep for his journey back to Qarinus, he preferred the long, languid evening he had with his Qunari instead. Bull took his sweet time pleasuring Dorian, keeping them both right on the edge for nearly an hour before it became too much (“amatus, _please!_”, “shhh, kadan, I’ve got you”). Dorian very nearly passed out from that orgasm, his whole body tensing and releasing so swiftly that he almost threw Bull off him. Bull held him gently, petting him and praising him and making Dorian _seriously_ reconsider going back to Tevinter.

The next morning, dressed for the first time in a week, and packed up (significantly lighter than the journey down what with all the clothes Bull ripped apart), Dorian stepped outside the inn. It was a good thing Bull got the whole place, because they would _definitely_ have been kicked out for how loud they’d been. Every step walking away from that inn, feeling Bull’s gaze on his back, was torture. It felt like Dorian was ripping his chest apart step by step. Part of him wanted to just turn around and give up on Tevinter. It was going to take perhaps the rest of his life fixing that place. He’d have to get by with seeing Bull only a few times a year. Nothing sounded worse than having to be away from him for so long.

If he started crying while walking away, there was no one to corroborate that little detail.


	29. Worst Luck Ever

“Magister Thalrassian, I have a few packages for you,” Morven informed Aquinea as soon as Dorian escorted her into the mansion. Dorian immediately got suspicious. Firstly, his mother _always_ had Morven put her packages in her room, no announcement necessary. Secondly, this was the third time that week she’d gotten multiple packages at once. Thirdly, Morven glanced at Dorian when he mentioned the packages. Aquinea smiled, something that usually meant she was about to hurt someone, and thanked Morven politely. She still hadn’t gotten used to _not_ having slaves, so her thanking _any_ of the servants was cause for alarm in Dorian’s mind.

“Aren’t you popular, Mother?” Dorian commented, helping her out of her cloak and handing it to Morven. Aquinea looked at him, still smiling. The look was unnerving.

“Packages doesn’t mean popularity, darling,” she reminded him, “any one of them could be an assassination attempt.”

It had been nearly a year since Halward Pavus had been assassinated. Dorian had gotten a few clues as to who they were, but he hadn’t had a good opportunity to take them down, yet. An assassination attempt wasn’t out of the question for him. But, Aquinea had been well-documented as despising Halward. She, as far as Dorian knew, wasn’t on _anyone’s_ hit list. She was so unwaveringly polite and poised and so disarmingly manipulative that most of the Magisterium believed they owed her favors when, in fact, they had been the ones doing her favors all along.

“I fully believe that you have the Archon in your pocket, Mother.” Dorian shook his head. “_No one_ would try to kill you.”

“I don’t have Radonis in my pocket,” Aquinea chuckled, shaking her head.

“The fact that you are on a first name basis with him says otherwise.”

“Dorian, I would like to speak with you later, if you have time.” Aquinea ignored his comment completely. The subject was closed.

“I have time now,” Dorian suggested.

“Not right now. I’ve been awaiting these packages. They’re quite urgent. After dinner, perhaps?” It sounded like a question. It _should_ have been a question. Her voice raised at the end giving the illusion of a question. Dorian might have technically been the head of the house, but he knew his mother was really in charge. It didn’t bother him all that much, because it made his life a bit easier. He was so busy dealing with the political machinations of the Lucerni that the day-to-day business got tiresome. Aquinea, for her part, adored the entire process and took great pleasure in teaching Josphine everything she knew.

Josephine had come to visit not long after Dorian returned from the inn that first time, and spent nearly three months in Tevinter. She helped him navigate some of the more treacherous offers of assistance and made a lifelong friend of Aquinea. Dorian’s mother adored everything there was to know about Josephine. The more time Josephine spent there, the more similar Dorian realized she was to his mother. It was… weird to say the least. Still, Josephine had been an invaluable asset to the Lucerni. Dorian hadn’t been able to make as much progress as he would have liked, but he had become a figurehead of sorts for all those in the country who felt like they didn’t belong for one reason or another.

Honestly, Dorian figured Maevaris would have been a better icon to use, as she had been _way_ more popular than Dorian had ever been, but, according to Josephine, Maevaris, _and_ his mother, Dorian’s status as a pariah actually made him better suited to the job. He painted a massive target on his back by openly coming out as gay. For at least three weeks, none of the other magisters would even _look_ at him, much less speak to him. But suddenly, Dorian received a fruit basket from an anonymous donor with a note expressing their thanks for him being so brave. Then, he was given the best table in the house at a restaurant he went to. The host left him a note thanking him for everything he had done.

Abruptly, he had become very popular with the other castes in Tevinter. While the magisters didn’t much care for him, the common people adored him. He was gay, he was openly trying to end corruption, and he was attractive. Aquinea said it was a perfect trifecta. The first made him a brave social outcast, stepping up against a world that would oppress him. The second made him a warrior for honesty and truth and justice. And the third was the reason why anyone cared. Dorian hated the whole thing. He felt like a slab of meat for sale. All the while knowing that the other people who had any sort of power actively _hated _him. They had gotten over their silent treatment, but Dorian could feel the aggression against him. They hated how much more popular he was than them.

So, Dorian couldn’t do much at all against the corruption thing. He already made a little progress, but if he pushed any more, _someone_ would kill him. He had to bide his time and wait them out. Eventually, things would cool down and he’d be able to start making progress again. As it was, Maevaris was their main spokesperson in the Magisterium, to keep everyone from focusing only on Dorian. The other Lucerni also worked hard to making sure that Dorian wasn’t going to be a martyr. Still, it didn’t feel great that so many people liked him for his anti-corruption campaign when he couldn’t push that campaign anywhere at all.

“I have time after dinner,” Dorian agreed. His mother bustled off and Dorian eyed her suspiciously. “Morven, what is she planning?”

“Magister Pavus?” Morven spoke haltingly. Dorian looked at him.

“She’s planning something, I can tell.” The man shifted uncomfortably under Dorian’s gaze. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

“I have been sworn to secrecy, Magister Pavus.” Morven looked distinctly self-conscious. Dorian couldn’t force the issue or it would upset both Morven _and_ his mother.

“At least tell me if it’s about me.” Dorian sighed. “It’s about me, isn’t it?” Morven glanced at Aquinea’s retreating back.

“I have been sworn to secrecy, Magister Pavus,” He repeated, nodding slowly. Dorian sighed again.

“Mother, what are you planning?” He called after her, abandoning the poor manservant. No sense in getting him in trouble when he was just doing his job.

“I am planning a surprise for you, darling,” Aquinea replied, demurely, not even bothering to turn around.

“Mother…” Dorian warned.

“That’s all I’ll say on the matter.” Aquinea looked over her shoulder, her dark eyes flashing dangerously. Dorian clenched his fists to keep himself from doing or saying anything. When she got this way, _nothing_ would get her to change her mind. Still, he couldn’t resist at least having the last word.

“As long as you know I’m not overly fond of surprises,” he muttered, almost too softly for her to hear him.

“You’ll like this one.”

Curse that impossible woman.

He considered calling Bull. Or Ellana. Or reaching out to Josephine. All three had _way_ too much contact with his mother than he was particularly comfortable with. Still, that didn’t mean Aquinea had told them anything. She could keep a secret forever.

“I have a meeting with the Lucerni,” Dorian informed her with an impatient huff, “I should be back by dinner.”

“Of course.” Aquinea spared him a small wave as she went up the stairs.

Well. It was abundantly clear that his flair for the melodramatic was inherited. At least Dorian knew he wasn’t as similar to his father as he remembered. Or maybe too much proximity to his mother was having an impact. He had to go the Qarinus frequently enough that he wasn’t in danger of pulling his hair out from overexposure, nor was he likely to be killed in his sleep when he pissed her off too much (he was still too similar to his father for them to be perfectly peaceable all the time).

“I know you can’t say anything.” Dorian turned to Morven. “But just… if something I _definitely_ wouldn’t like is happening, will you at least give me a heads up?”

“Of course, sir.” Morven nodded with a smile. Dorian waited. Morven chuckled under his breath. “I can say that what she’s planning should appeal to you, sir.”

“Ugh.” Dorian threw his hands up in frustration. “You’re all horrible people.”

“Of course, sir.” Morven had gotten used to Dorian, so the comment was dry and sarcastic. Dorian liked him for that.

“Try to keep the house standing while I’m gone.” Dorian shifted his cloak more securely around himself. “Don’t worry about a bath tonight for me, either. I’ve got too much work to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dorian walked out into the dark streets. He’d done this walk many times. The Lucerni originally met in his mansion, as there were only a half dozen of them at the time. As the group grew in size, however, they required more space. There were chambers attached to the main Magisterium building allowing for a meeting place for factions. Frankly, Dorian wasn’t much looking forward to the meeting tonight, as the Lucerni had gathered some young, liberal upstarts who were about as political as shouting aggressively and almost immolating themselves. They were better than how they’d started, because he literally had to throw a bucket of ice water at one of them. The individuals didn’t have a lot of clout themselves, but the group itself was doing pretty well, in terms of making progress. Still, Dorian had to talk down a few of their more asinine ideas (_eradicate slavery now!_ Although Dorian agreed with the premise, evidenced by the fact that he didn’t own any slaves, he knew that would be impossible to accomplish in one lifetime.)

Still, he wasn’t too pleased about being forced to miss the meeting, even though he didn’t _really_ want to go in the first place. It was probably because he was being kidnapped, but that went without saying.

He had been walking, minding his own business, when darkness dropped around him. He immediately ducked, blinking hard. It wasn’t a curse attached to him, but a spell cast over the area. He couldn’t see _anything_. If he could get out of the spell’s area of effect, he’d be in better shape. Which was why he started shuffling sideways as quietly as he could manage. He knew the spell that was used and whoever was attacking him couldn’t see through the darkness any more than he could.

A fireball came flying through the darkness, thrown randomly, as far as Dorian could tell, but it still startled him badly enough that he swore. The next fireball was better aimed, but Dorian had figured out where it was coming from. He threw up a shield to absorb the blow and then fired a blast of energy right back. He heard someone cry out in pain and kept moving, trying to get out of the darkness. He managed to find the edge, unfortunately finding six mages lurking outside, staves at the ready. One of them was on his ass, clutching his gut in pain.

A thought occurred to him, eerie in how blasé it was: he was not getting out of this alive.

Instead of going quietly into that good night, Dorian pulled forth all the magic he possessed. If he was going to die, he was going to die with a _bang_. It was his duty to uphold the melodrama of the Pavus name, not to mention it would make Ellana and Bull proud, which was completely worth it. With a snarl, he slammed his staff on the ground, throwing a shockwave across the cobblestones. All five upright mages were knocked from their feet, while the one on the ground was thrown back. Dorian got to his feet and let his magic swirl around him, both a shield and a prepared weapon.

He wasn’t prepared for a literal _arrow_ to come flying at him. His shield helped block it, but he was abruptly distracted in trying to find the archer. He tried to keep one eye on the mages, but somehow had missed a rogue helping them out, because pain filled his senses, making his vision swam. Someone had hit him in the head. He fell to his knees and tried to shake the pain off. He could do this. A hand clamped down onto his shoulder and he set it on fire. The rogue threw himself away from Dorian, yelling in panic as he was suddenly _on fire_.

By that point, the mages had gotten to their feet and Dorian lost his element of surprise. It wasn’t fair, honestly. For a half-second in there, he thought he might actually make it. Dorian got to his feet gingerly, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head. That rogue had hit him pretty hard. His free hand slipped into the front of his robe, clenching the stone at his neck firmly. The mages all tensed, expecting something violent and magical to happen.

“_Las’dirth_,” Dorian murmured.

“Kadan!” Bull’s joy made Dorian’s heart break. He was going to die here and Bull had no idea.

“Amatus,” Dorian said, voice tight with emotion, “I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Kadan?” Instantly, Bull’s voice turned concerned and a little frantic. Which didn’t make much sense because Bull was _never_ frantic.

“He has a sending crystal!” One of the mages spoke up and they all started to converge on him.

“I’m sorry, amatus,” Dorian repeated.

“_Dorian!_”

The pure terror in Bull’s voice would haunt Dorian’s nightmares for the rest of his miserable life (which, to be fair, wasn’t looking to be too terribly long).

“I expect that screaming will do me no good.” Dorian nodded at the mages.

“Hand over the sending crystal.” The mage who recognized the crystal spoke up.

“Unfortunately, I’ve cursed it. Can’t take it off.” Dorian shrugged. Bull wasn’t speaking, but he could probably hear every word. “Only my amatus can remove it, and he’s quite far away, so you’re shit out of luck, gentlemen.”

“You’re coming with us,” the leader decided, nodding at the other mages.

“Wait…” Dorian’s head was still in agony, but he recognized the necklace around the leader’s neck. “You’re Venatori, aren’t you?” He rolled his eyes and huffed out an irritated sigh. “You know, for a group who’s leader has been dead for years now, you sure do feel like you’ve still got authority.”

“Tevinter will rise again!” The leader snarled.

“Sure, and without you in it.” Dorian shrugged. “Because if you, for one second, think that you kidnapping me won’t end in every single one of you dead, you’re a moron.”

“No one but your lover knows and, as you said, he’s quite far away,” the leader retorted.

“My _amatus_,” Dorian corrected, “is a patient man. It might be in a year, but all eight of you will die by his hand.” He glanced behind him. The rogue who clocked him was dead on the ground, still on fire. The smell of burning flesh was acrid in Dorian’s nose. “Sorry, seven. And that’s assuming you don’t have any other friends are involved, because he’ll kill them, too.”

It wasn’t an unwarranted promise. Dorian knew Bull. And, Bull knew what was happening. He would hunt down and kill every person involved with this plot, even if it took him the rest of his life to do it. Which was why Dorian let him know how many were there. If he was going to die, he was going to give all the information he could to Bull. Technically, they were kidnapping him now, but that didn’t mean they’d give up and just kill him later.

“Take him,” the leader repeated, ignoring Dorian’s speech entirely. No one seemed to take the very real threat to their lives seriously. Probably because they didn’t know Bull was a Qunari. But then again, they wouldn’t believe Dorian even if he told them that. After all, a magister and a Tal-Vashoth was impossible.

“They’re going to knock me out, amatus,” Dorian informed his Qunari, keeping his eyes on the other mages. Even _if_ he managed to take one or two of them out before getting knocked out, they had superior numbers and would get him eventually. The last thing he wanted when he woke up wherever he was being taken was to be in a strange place, held captive, without any magic available to him.

“I’m going to find you, kadan.” Bull’s voice finally resonated from the crystal, rough and deep with pure, unadulterated rage. “I’m going to kill every single one of those fuckers, and then I’m going to bring you home. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was the last thing Dorian remembered before the spell knocked him unconscious.


	30. Desperate Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning!  
-Graphic depictions of torture  
-Homophobic language
> 
> If you are worried about being triggered, there's a summary in the end notes. You won't have to read this chapter at all to keep up with future chapters!

Everything hurt. Dorian had no idea where he was, though the fact that it wasn’t uncompromisingly cold told him he was probably not very far south. Frankly, he was probably still in Tevinter, based on the fact that it was the Venatori who took him in the first place. Still, the most he could tell was that he was in a cave somewhere, and he didn’t get to leave the little cell they had set up for him. He had a bucket as a privvy, but that was about it. He wasn’t chained up or tied up or anything, but his staff, cloak, and satchel had all been taken from him. The little ringleader of the mages who had kidnapped him was _not_, in fact, the person in charge. There was a woman running everything and she decided torture was the best bet for dealing with Dorian.

Granted, Dorian considered her monologue regarding the supremacy of Tevinter over the rest of Thedas to be worse than the actual physical torture that happened afterward. She had, at some point in her ramblings, admitted to be the driving force behind the assassination of his father, so at least he had some of the answers he’d been searching for since Halward Pavus’ death. Now, he wasn’t particularly pleased about _how_ he learned this information, but he knew Bull would take care of it.

The torture itself was pretty standard fare. Some big, burly man showed up and started hitting and kicking Dorian. It hurt, sure, but it wasn’t all _that_ bad. The squirrely little man who flayed his fingers was _bad_. But even that didn’t compare much to the waterboarding. Honestly, if he didn’t get seasick _thinking_ about the sea already, Dorian was positive the waterboarding would ruin him for sailing entirely. As it was, the constant burning in his lungs and the instinctive panic at being unable to get air was worse than any of the physical pain they put him through.

The physical torture, Dorian was able to heal. He only bothered to heal the skin of his hands back to keep them from getting infected. He wanted to keep his hands, thank you very much, even though the next day, they could just peel the skin away again. He didn’t bother dealing with the little cuts or bruises, trying to keep his magic in reserve for fixing his fingers and healing the damage the waterboarding was slowly doing to his lungs. He wasn’t getting much rest, so he was starting to run low on his magic stores.

He lost track of how long he’d been there. He assumed it had been several days, based on how many times he had to heal his hands, but he couldn’t be sure. The waterboarding made perfectly sure that he wasn’t going to die of thirst anytime soon, but they did make sure to chuck a crust of bread his way once a day. At first, he didn’t want to touch it, but hunger won out in the end. He reasoned that if he was already being tortured, poisoning him made little sense.

The first day, the woman in charge demanded his sending crystal. Dorian told her to take it herself. The frown on her face told him she had someone try while he was unconscious. Dorian hadn’t been conscious, but he knew _exactly _what had happened to the poor soul. It wasn’t pretty, but Dorian had been feeling pretty protective of his necklace when he’d been cursing it.

She demanded he take it off himself, which told him that she knew her curses pretty well. He couldn’t underestimate her. He told her to make him, which was when the torture started. He, so far, had little issue keeping the crystal to himself. It was his lifeline to Bull. Not that Bull had contacted him through it, but he probably didn’t know that Dorian still had it. Or he didn’t want to hear Dorian getting tortured, which was fair. Still, just knowing Bull was on the other end made it priceless to Dorian. He’d die before giving up that little crystal. He was also eternally lucky that he hadn’t been carrying the sending crystal to Ellana, because then he was _certain_ he’d have been killed already.

As it stood, he still wasn’t convinced he’d survive this before Bull found him.

It didn’t even occur to him that Bull might not be able to find him. At least, not until the woman in charge pointed it out during one of the waterboarding sessions. It was rude, in Dorian’s opinion, pointing out the logical conclusions: the world was huge and Bull had no earthly idea where Dorian was when he was kidnapped, much less where he was taken. Once she said the words, Dorian could think about little else. Still, he knew Bull. Bull would find a way. And if he didn’t know what to do, he’d go to Ellana, and that elf had the best luck in the world. (Well, apart from losing her arm, obviously.)

It wasn’t the only thing she said during her torture of him. She was very deliberately trying to get him to give up entirely. To hand over the sending crystal and all the pain would go away. Dorian was no fool. He knew that meant that she’d kill him. Honestly, her words weren’t even that bad (aside from the knock she made at Bull’s competence). Nothing she said was any worse than what Dorian got all the time when he was younger. She couldn’t even come up with unique slurs against him. All she had was him being gay and anti-Venatori, which wasn’t all that much all things considered. “Bardash” wasn’t even the worst thing he’d been called in his life. Hell, Conrad Whitley had better insults against him. It got to the point where Dorian started rating her name-calling out loud. Partly to irritate her and partly because it was boring, hearing the same three or four slurs over and over.

“Honestly, if all you’ve got is ‘bardash’, ‘faggot’, and ‘poofer’, I’m going to _have_ to insist you get one of your flunkies to insult me instead,” Dorian informed her, “I was called worse by my father.”

That just earned him extra waterboarding time that day.

Sometime later (he couldn’t tell you how long), he’d just dealt with a punch session with Ser Meat Fists when a loud, echoing _boom_ rocked the earth, tossing him to the ground. Dorian had given everyone nicknames on his first day and abused those names to aggravate everyone. He didn’t have much control, being a captive and everything, but he could irritate the piss out of anyone on Thedas (except maybe Ellana). Even Bull had his limits with Dorian’s particular brand of bullshit. The explosion seemed to have come from outside.

Dorian hurt from the torture and from being chucked to the ground, but he didn’t bother moving from his prone position. It would hurt more if he moved. He heard the Venatori rushing around in a panic. He couldn’t help but laugh as they scurried about like frightened rats. The laugh was a little manic and hysterical, which just made him sound mad, but honestly, he couldn’t stop himself. He felt eyes on him and tilted his head to spot the man in charge of guarding him for the moment. His eyes were wide with fear, though Dorian didn’t know if it was the explosion or his insane laughter that scared him.

“Took him long enough,” he rasped out. His voice had been ruined by all the torture. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever have his dulcet tones again. Dorian caught the gaze of the guard. “You’re all going to die.”

It probably sounded like the ramblings of a madman, but Dorian _knew_ that explosion was Bull. His Qunari had, improbably enough, found him. And every single person in the cave was going to be murdered. Dorian didn’t know what Bull’s mood would be, because that would determine how everyone would be killed. The more angry he got, the more violent the deaths. Dorian wouldn’t be surprised if he literally started pulling people’s limbs off. Somehow, that thought was attractive and not repulsive. Dorian figured he spent too much time with the southern barbarians (you know, his _friends_) and it ruined his delicate sensibilities.

“Kadan.” Dorian opened his eyes (as much as he could when one was swollen near-shut) with a startled jolt. He didn’t realize he’d passed out somewhere in there. The first thing he saw was his Qunari looming over him, eye focused, concern written all over his blood-spattered features. He couldn’t help it; he smiled. It wasn’t entirely appropriate, all things considered, but he hadn’t seen his lover in a few months and it was _killing_ him, ignoring the whole kidnapping thing.

“Amatus.” His voice was destroyed but he managed to make his love well-known.

“Is he okay, Chief?” Krem’s voice distracted Dorian’s frazzled mind, but he couldn’t focus enough to see past Bull’s face.

“Not at all,” Dorian replied before Bull could, “these heathens don’t even have proper _beds_, much less any quality food. I’m never staying here again.”

“He’s good.” Bull smiled, but it didn’t reach his eye. “Kadan, I don’t want to move you until we know where you’re injured.”

“Just about everywhere.” Dorian watched his hand come up and touch Bull’s bicep, as if on its own. Bull looked at the hand. His jaw clenched tightly as he took in the skinless fingers. Dorian hadn’t had time to heal himself before Ser Meat Fists showed up. “I’ll heal it in a moment.”

“Don’t worry about it, kadan.” Bull brushed Dorian’s hair back, focusing on his face. “Stitches will have you fixed up in no time.”

“I knew you’d find me,” Dorian murmured.

“Always, kadan.” Bull touched his forehead to Dorian’s. Dorian sighed in appreciation. He would have preferred a kiss, but Bull was probably too wound up for that. Yes, everything still hurt, but that was temporary. He hadn’t died. Bull had found him. Anything else didn’t matter.

“I hope you killed her.”

“What did you expect from your amatus?” Bull asked, trying to tease, but he was too tense for it to be effective. Some tender thing inside Dorian that had the fortitude to survive everything he had been through fractured at the brokenness in Bull’s voice.

“Just hold me,” Dorian ordered, feeling hot tears leak from his eyes. The relief he’d been waiting for crashed over him like a tidal wave. Bull obediently gathered Dorian up in his arms and held him, firmly, but gently. Dorian sobbed into Bull’s arm, unable to keep himself put together any longer. However long he’d been captured had taken a decade off his life. He had been so _certain_ he was going to die that being rescued almost _hurt_, the relief was so strong.

“I’m never letting you go anywhere alone again, kadan.” Bull’s voice was soft and broken. “You’re _never_ doing this again.”

Dorian didn’t know how long they sat there, huddled on the floor of the cave, but however uncomfortable Bull was, kneeling on the hard rock, he didn’t complain. When they separated, only a few inches, Dorian saw the crowd of Chargers lurking behind Bull. He _should_ have felt embarrassed, but he couldn’t even manage that anymore. If he was lucky, he’d remember to feel something other than pain or soul-crushing relief at some point before he died.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Krem suggested softly when he caught Dorian’s gaze, “nothing like a warm bed and hot food.” The mere _idea_ of a bed and actual food almost made Dorian burst into tears again. Bull was watching him and caught the brief expression of pained longing. He shifted back on his heels before gingerly getting to his feet, cradling Dorian. Stitches rushed forward, eyes taking in every inch of Dorian with rapid assessment. He made Dorian swallow down a few poultices before he let Bull carry Dorian anywhere. Dorian was impatient to get _out_ of that horrendous cave, but Bull wasn’t going to leave anything to chance, and gave Stitches all the time he wanted to make sure Dorian was stable enough to move.

“I’m fine, stop fussing,” Dorian complained, half-heartedly. He even took the time and energy to heal the skin back onto his hands to make Bull and Stitches feel better. Once he had a few of the nasty draughts in him, and his hands were whole again, Stitches allowed them to leave. And then, when they exited, Dorian was surprised to see it was nighttime. He didn’t know why, as nighttime was the best time for ambushes, but for some reason, he had been expecting sunlight and instead got stars. They twinkled and flickered and it was almost too much for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. He might’ve just gotten claustrophobia from his experience, if his reaction to stars was to be terrified of not seeing them.

Dorian didn’t know where he had been taken, but somehow, they weren’t too terribly far from a nearby town. The inn had been bought out by the Chargers, in anticipation of rescuing Dorian, so the promise of a real bed and warm food wasn’t an empty one. Bull ensured Dorian ate slowly, and only amounting to half of what he _actually_ wanted to consume. Logically, he knew he’d get sick if he ate too much too fast, but he wasn’t running on logic. He nearly started crying all over again when Bull stopped him from getting more food. He also nearly passed out on the table not long after being cut off. Bull scooped him up, yet again, and hauled him upstairs. But not to a bedroom. Bull carried Dorian to the bathing room, where a hot bath was already waiting.

It was at _that_ point that Dorian started crying again.

It was both appreciation for the thoughtfulness of his lover, and also a secret fear of being near the water. Still, he wasn’t likely to be drowned in a bath with Bull watching over him and the grime and blood of his torture was both irritating his skin and his delicate sensibilities. He was too much a dainty rich boy to be afraid of a bath and frankly, he was disgusted by how disgusting he had gotten. He ignored the tiny scared voice in the back of his head and stripped down. Well, he tried to, but it took Bull’s assistance to get him naked, since he was still pretty sore and bruised from his experience. Bull saw Dorian’s body and his hands clenched into fists so tight, Dorian thought he’d lose all sensation entirely.

Bull sat beside the bath, gently helping Dorian wash the entire experience from his skin and hair. He spoke quietly, telling Dorian all about how he got the Chargers together and they stormed into Tevinter, with no idea as to where they could possibly be going. Maevaris and Aquinea figured out Dorian was missing soon after he was taken and started gathering as much information as they could to learn where he was taken. Bull snuck into Minrathous (which he was superbly sparse on the details of _how_, so Dorian just stopped asking), met with Maevaris and put the information he had with what she had to determine an area of where Dorian could be held. Then, it was just a matter of combing that area. Luckily, on the second day of roaming, Grim had spotted a Venatori patrol. They spent that day checking out the fortifications (not many) and how many people were involved (also, not very many). Then, they devised the plan, Rocky set off an explosion, and they rushing in, using the element of surprise to take down the mages quickly. Bull spared no detail in explaining how he knew the woman was in charge based on her barking orders at everyone, which meant he saved her for last. Dorian didn’t ask, but he could tell Bull had torn the woman limb from limb. Literally.

“How long was I gone?” Dorian asked, “I lost track of time.”

“A week,” Bull murmured.

Dorian stared at him in surprise for a few long moments. He thought it had been longer. Every day felt like ten in his mind.

“We found a few charred skeleton remains outside that cave,” Bull said, slowly, “were they doing blood magic on you?”

“No.” Dorian shook his head. “They don’t have enough volunteers to their cause to just be killing people willy nilly for torture. Those skeletons were my fault.”

Bull stared at him, silently waiting for him to elaborate.

“I didn’t do blood magic either,” he added, belatedly realizing how Bull could have taken those words, “I put a curse on my necklace so no one can take it from me. If someone tries to remove it, their body becomes paralyzed and their skeleton crawls out of them and sets itself on fire.”

Bull just kept staring at him.

“It’s just another form of necromancy,” he defended, weakly, “I just paralyzed them and brought their skeleton to life. Just like any other rising of the dead. Just, they’re not technically dead when it happens.”

“The next time you do some fucked up magic shit, just tell me it’s fucked up magic shit.” Bull shook his head.

“It’s fucked up magic shit,” Dorian replied, obediently.

“I didn’t know you were as bloodthirsty as me, kadan.” Bull touched their foreheads together.

“The only people who can take this off are me and you,” Dorian admitted with a jaw-cracking yawn, “anyone else trying to take it doesn’t have good intentions, so they deserve what’s coming to them.”

“Let’s get you in bed.” Bull had laid out some towels in front of the fire, so when he wrapped Dorian up like a package, Dorian never thought he’d been more comfortable in his life. That was precisely one minute before recanting that statement, since Bull nestled him up in a big ball in the bed.

“I love you, amatus,” Dorian mumbled, snuggling into Bull’s heat, “thank you.”

“Always, kadan.” Bull finally (_finally_) kissed Dorian, tenderly. “I love you, too.”

This time, when Dorian blacked out, it was to the safe, comfortable, dreamless sleep of exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
Dorian is kidnapped and tortured by the woman who had his father assassinated. Bull, after their last conversation, takes the Chargers and runs into Tevinter. He meets up with Maevaris, who (along with Aquinea) gathered information on how to find Dorian. They come up with an area to search. Grim spots the Venatori camp. Rocky sets off an explosion as a distraction. The Chargers and Bull rush the cave Dorian is held captive in and rescue him. Bull takes Dorian back to a nearby inn and feeds him, helps bathe him, and puts him to sleep.


	31. Best Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness of this update! I've been working on a few things that are getting published, and real jobs take precedence over fun, unfortunately. Hope you enjoy!

Bull sent word to Maevaris and Aquinea that he had rescued Dorian with few issues, but that Dorian was not yet well enough to travel. He made it abundantly clear that Dorian would only return when he was ready and not a second beforehand. Dorian added a note himself, mostly to appease their suspicious natures, letting them know that he was safe, and that he’d come back shortly, no matter what Bull said. Bull added a postscript to Dorian’s note, informing them that they better not coerce him into returning sooner than necessary.

Apparently, Krem was sent as the messenger, because when he returned, two responses in tow, he looked a bit shaken and wide-eyed at the whole experience.

“Your mum is insane,” he told Dorian, “and, so is your friend.”

“Well, I probably make a lot more sense now, don’t I?” Dorian replied.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Krem shook his head and handed over the messages. “That friend of yours tried to convince me to sleep with her. And your mum threatened to poison me.”

“Oh.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “They liked you.”

“Did you miss the part where she _threatened to poison me_?”

“That’s how she shows she cares.” Dorian waved Krem’s concerns away. “She’s threatened my life more times than I can count.”

“You’re her son.”

“And, you’re her son’s rescuer,” Dorian pointed out, mildly, “she’s probably so relieved that she threatened my life in this letter.” He started scanning it, quickly. “Ah, here it is: ‘_if you ever make me have to relive this horror ever again, I will rescue you myself and then poison your tea’_. See? It’s her way of showing she cares.”

Krem didn’t look convinced, and turned on his heel to walk away. Probably to go tell the other Chargers about his weird experiences with “Dorian’s ‘Vint people”. Dorian glanced over to see Krem settle in the seat next to Maryden, who had decided to follow the Chargers around once the Inquisition got leashed. Her hand reached out and rubbed Krem’s shoulders sympathetically, making Dorian grin.

“What’s the rest of it say, kadan?”

If Bull had problems being separated from Dorian when they had to spend months apart, he was _infinitely_ worse when he had to rescue Dorian from Venatori. Dorian hadn’t been out of physical proximity from his Qunari in the four days they’d been resting at the inn. Not that he particularly _wanted_ to be separated from him. Honestly, Bull’s presence helped keep the nightmares at bay.

“My mother left a sealed note in here for you.” Dorian eyed the unassuming parchment suspiciously. He held it up and Bull’s arm reached over his shoulder to snag it. They were in the main room of the inn, sitting in front of the fire. Bull had found a comfortable position for himself on the floor and then dragged Dorian into his lap. Dorian didn’t fight him on it. The Chargers made no comment, which told Dorian either they had been ordered to keep their mouths shut (which never _really_ worked) or they were being sensitive to Dorian’s situation. Luckily, no one was treating him with pity, else he’d burn some eyebrows off. Every one of them had a tale, some worse than others, but once they’d found each other, no one had gotten kidnapped or held hostage. It appeared to have shaken them, even though Dorian wasn’t a Charger. He’d be surprised if they didn’t find a way to stay in Tevinter, despite Krem’s history and Bull’s… existence.

“She gave me money.” Bull sounded a bit disgusted. Dorian glanced over his shoulder to see the gold pieces fall out of the parchment. “I’m gonna send it back.”

“She’ll find _some_ way to thank you,” Dorian pointed out, “she can’t _stand_ being indebted to someone.”

“You’re _my_ kadan.” Bull’s brow furrowed. “I was going to come get you no matter what. There’s no debt here.”

“Well, you can argue that with _her_.” Dorian shrugged, reading over the note from his mother. “She says she’s been corresponding with you and that you seem to be an intelligent man who adores me. She’d like to meet you. Ugh.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Bull asked, absently reading over his own note. “She says here that she’d like to meet me, to thank me in person.”

“In _no_ reality should you and my mother meet.” Dorian shook his head. “The world would implode. It’s too much manipulation in one place. It could only be worse if _Leliana_ were there.”

“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a bit, kadan?”

“No.” Dorian opened up the letter from Maevaris, trying to end that conversation before it began. “Maevaris has decided that she’s going to get me a bodyguard. I really don’t see how that’s feasible. She’s pouring her funds into the Lucerni, as am I. We can’t afford a decent bodyguard forever, even if we wanted to. And there’s no way she’d trust anyone less than the best, so decent won’t be good enough.”

“You _should_ have a bodyguard,” Bull agreed.

“_You_ wouldn’t trust anyone who’s not _you_,” Dorian pointed out, “and, bodyguards are seen as a weakness in the Magisterium. I should be able to take care of myself. The kidnapping and subsequent return to court will be seen as a victory for me. I was kidnapped, but not broken or killed, and managed to get rescued within a week. Honestly, it would only be better if we spun the story like I broke free of their clutches.”

“We can do that.” Bull shrugged. “If it’ll give you some clout and protection.”

“It’ll definitely make people pause before thinking of kidnapping me.” Dorian nodded. “Still, a bodyguard won’t do. Either I have to be weak enough to not be able to care for myself or powerful enough to not cloud my mind with such issues. The Archon has a bodyguard, but it’s only because he gets bored dealing with the people who want to kill him.”

“I’ll speak with your mother,” Bull decided, “see if she has any ideas.”

“Okay, that’s disturbing on multiple levels.” Dorian shook his head. “Please don’t keep me informed about your conversations with my mother. Your entire acquaintance with her just gives me a headache.”

“As you wish.” Bull pressed a kiss to Dorian’s temple, which was affectionate and charming and utterly _too_ domestic.

“At this rate, the Chargers will _never_ take you seriously again.” Dorian huffed out, trying to seem irritated when he was anything but. “Seeing you all lovey-dovey over your lover.”

“They saw what I was like with those Venatori.” Bull wrapped his arms around Dorian’s middle, propping his head on Dorian’s shoulder. “I won’t have to worry about them not taking me seriously ever again.”

“You know, it shouldn’t be a turn-on that you ripped her limbs off.”

Dorian had been trying for three days to get intimate with Bull. And Bull had been dodging him at every turn, acting like Dorian wasn’t ready for such physical exertion. Dorian was about at the end of his rope. He was going to have to go back to Minrathous and be physically separate from his lover for another three months, if he was lucky. Still, he took a little sadistic pleasure in reminding Bull of all the ways he found his Qunari attractive. Bull was hanging onto his control stubbornly, but Dorian had plans to break his resolve that night.

“I can’t help it I’m so sexy, kadan,” Bull chuckled.

“Liar.” Dorian turned his head to press an awkward kiss on Bull’s nose and went back to his letters. “At some point, I’m going to have to go back, amatus.”

“Yeah, but not yet.”

“Not yet,” Dorian agreed amiably, settling against Bull’s chest comfortably, “neither of these require responses, though both are frightfully vague as to what’s been going on in Minrathous since I was taken. I’m not exactly a quiet, unassuming magister. My absence has been noted, I’m sure of it.”

“They’re probably handling it just fine,” Bull said, placatingly, “they’re trying to keep you from getting stressed.”

“Not knowing anything is stressful, too,” Dorian muttered, under his breath. Bull merely chuckled and pressed a kiss to Dorian’s temple again.

Of course, that was the moment when the door to the inn got kicked in.

Instantly, every person in the room was on their feet, weapons at the ready. Dorian didn’t know how he managed it so quickly, but Bull not only got to his feet and hoisted his battle axe menacingly, but he also got Dorian behind him. Which, from a tactician’s perspective was kind of stupid, since Dorian didn’t have direct line-of-sight to the intruders and therefore would be entirely useless in a fight, unless he went to go stand on a table. He somehow doubted Bull would appreciate such a maneuver, though.

“_Dorian Pavus!_”

Dorian darted around Bull before anyone could react, hurling himself bodily at the smaller intruder, nearly knocking her to the ground. Somehow, she maintained her feet as he hugged her tightly. Her arms wrapped around him and he felt himself start to cry, which was just a silly reaction, but he couldn’t help it.

“We come in peace!” Cullen called, tossing the hood of his travel cloak back. Instantly, the tension in the room eased.

“I hate you so much,” Ellana murmured thickly into Dorian’s shoulder.

“I missed you, too,” Dorian replied.

“Cullen.” Bull’s voice was closer, indicating he had moved across the room, but Dorian couldn’t pull away from Ellana to see what was going on. “Good to see ya.”

“We came as soon as we heard.” Cullen and Bull were probably doing some manly, comrades-at-arms, handshake. Dorian couldn’t bring himself to let go of his best friend. He hadn’t seen her in eight months and the last time he had seen her, she had yelled at him.

“Come on, sit down. We got food and drink.” Bull’s large hand touched the middle of Dorian’s back. Dorian sighed and turned his head to look at his Qunari. He pretended that he wasn’t crying, but the softness in Bull’s eye told him he didn’t succeed. Cullen’s expression was also gentle, smiling lightly at the embrace.

“Let’s go sit, Ell.”

“Okay.” Ellana didn’t let go of him. Chuckling lightly, Dorian and Ellana shuffled over to the nearest table, settling side-by-side in chairs that had been hastily shoved together. Ellana’s hands clenched into Dorian’s clothes, desperately. She pulled back minutely to examine him carefully.

“You look gorgeous, as usual, my darling Inquisitor,” Dorian informed her. She had grown her hair out, like Dorian himself had, but instead of pinning it back in a bun, she had the locks braided together in a thick plait over her shoulder. She looked breathtaking, just like always, and Dorian couldn’t help but smile at her. He grabbed her hand in his, squeezing tightly. She squeezed back with a tiny smirk, making Dorian wince in pain. He had forgotten that her left hand was so much stronger with the lyrium than it had been when it was merely flesh.

Dorian had managed to find plans for a limb stand-in that, if imbued with magic correctly, would allow her to actually have her left hand back. Dagna built and tested the fake arm over and over until they had a product that would work. Ellana was _so mad_ that they’d been doing the research behind her back, but Cullen managed to calm her down. Dorian had taken one of his trips out of Tevinter to help Dagna affix the metal arm to Ellana. She told Dorian it was the most painful experience she’d ever had in her life. The arm itself was removable, which Ellana said was pretty handy (no pun intended), but the metal elbow was seared to her skin. And _that_ was the part that Ellana hated. Still, she was more thankful to have her hand back, though she did inform everyone involved that she’d rather just be handicapped than have to go through that agony again.

“How’s the hand been treating you?” He asked.

“I can crush rocks with it, which is a good intimidation tactic for all the prisoners we get.” Ellana grinned.

“Prisoners?”

“You know, Solas’ followers, leftover Venatori, people who think that because the Inquisition is merely the bodyguard of the divine that they can steal from us without consequence, the occasional noble who gets on my nerves…” She shrugged.

“She’s been doing great with it.” Cullen sat across from them, next to Bull. Dorian was surprised Bull willingly sat so far away. At least, he was, until Bull reached across the table and took one of Dorian’s hands hostage.

“Regular tune-ups with Dagna,” Ellana added, “she offered the recalibrate my hand so it was more along the lines of my _real_ strength, but I kind of like having a super strong hand.”

“Speaking of Solas, any progress on that front?” Dorian asked.

“Yes, but we’re not talking about that right now.” The elf looked Dorian over, yet again. “What happened, Dor?”

“Venatori.” Dorian rolled his eyes and noted that the rest of the Chargers had all settled around them like one big mob.

“That answer might fly with your magister acquaintances, but I’m your soul mate, so you’re going to have to do better than that.” Ellana poked his side.

It took much longer than Dorian anticipated to tell the tale, but that was because everyone needed to throw in their additions, making the story loop around on itself time and time again, like some impossible knot. Neither Cullen nor Ellana interrupted or seemed confused, so they must have been at least a _little_ coherent, but it still took forever.

“And, we’ve been here for the past four days,” Dorian finished without flourish, “I’m perfectly healed and healthy. My magic stores are lower than I’d like, but I’m quite alright, all things considered.”

“Good.” Ellana had snuggled close enough to Dorian that she was practically on his lap. He had his arms around her to keep her from falling to the floor and she had her head resting on his shoulder. She needed the contact as much as he did. It made retelling the story much easier with her physical proximity. Dorian felt the nightmares slip farther and farther away the more the story was told.

“I’m glad that everything worked out well,” Cullen added.

“How long are you two staying?” Bull asked.

“Magister Thalrassian invited us to stay in Minrathous for a while,” Cullen answered, “we were planning on taking her up on that offer.”

“What?” Dorian stared at the man. “You’re staying in Tevinter? Why? What did she offer you?”

“Relax, Dor.” Ellana interrupted the questions with a hand on his lips. “Your mother invited us when you were kidnapped. She knew that I needed to be in the thick of things. The fact that you got rescued before I got here, notwithstanding. I was going to start bashing heads together to get some answers. Then, I found out you were saved.”

“How’d she contact you so fast?” Dorian asked.

“She found your sending crystal.” Ellana shrugged. “But, we were in Ferelden. It was a bit of a trip and we needed to stop to resupply. I would’ve been here sooner, but Josephine insisted on packing way more than is necessary.”

“She made us pack formal attire,” Cullen corrected, “and, if we’re staying in Minrathous, we _should_ have formal attire.”

“The dress is horrendous, Dor.” Ellana rolled her eyes.

“So, it’s too long, got too many ruffles and bows, and it makes you look stunning?” Dorian teased.

“Shut up.” She flushed. “I hate the damn thing.”

“She says she can’t fight in it.” Cullen added, grinning.

“Shut up!”

“You could always cut the fabric with your knives if you need to get into a fight,” Bull suggested.

“That wastes precious time.” Ellana shook her head. “I could get stabbed while trying to hack this dress apart.”

“Well, you could cut a slit in the side,” Dorian pointed out, “it would allow your legs freedom while fighting.”

“But then I’d be exposed thigh down.” Ellana shook her head. “Josephine would _kill_ me for the impropriety.”

“You could also just start a new fashion.” Dorian shrugged. “You don’t know.”

“I don’t think my darling commander would appreciate the rest of the world seeing me so freely.” Ellana looked pointedly at her husband. Cullen flushed a bit, but didn’t deny anything.

“He might appreciate it in private though.” Dorian enjoyed needling Cullen.

“Oh, I know _exactly_ what he appreciates.” Ellana grinned.

“Do tell.”

Cullen got a hand over Ellana’s lips before she could get a word out.

“You can both stop at any time,” he snapped, face bright red.

“See, I like gagging, too.” Bull leaned across the table, face a bright grin. “Makes all those noises so much sweeter.”

Dorian flushed then, but the burning on Cullen’s face overshadowed his reaction. Ellana laughed as Cullen snatched his hand back like he was burned.

“I hate you all,” he muttered.

By the time everyone settled down for the evening, Dorian was exhausted. But he didn’t have time to be exhausted. He needed his amatus like nothing else, and he was sick and tired of Bull dancing around the subject because he was worried Dorian wasn’t ready. But, Bull’s constant presence made any planning take a while, and the touching was a constant distraction. Still, he wasn’t going to let Bull talk him out of it again.

Bull flopped on the bed, unceremoniously. He tried to pull Dorian down with him, but Dorian gently pulled his hand from Bull’s grip. Bull immediately sat up, frowning. Dorian raised one arched brow, daring Bull to stop him. Bull’s eye narrowed in return, trying to figure out what Dorian was doing. Dorian took a couple deliberate steps back from the bed, staying out of the reach of his amatus.

“What are you up to, kadan?” Bull’s voice was light and curious.

“We’re going to play a game,” Dorian replied, lightly, finding the bottle of oil amongst the belongings scattered across the room and setting it on the table for later. He’d need it, if everything went according to plan. Bull’s eye darkened, but his jaw tightened. “You don’t get to touch me until I tell you and you tell me every little sordid thing you want to do to me.”

“Kadan…”

“No, you don’t get to decide that I’m not ready,” Dorian interrupted, “we agreed to trust each other. Trust me when I say _I’m fine_.”

“What about that nightmare last night?” Bull asked. Dorian huffed out an impatient sigh and rolled his eyes. His amatus was an idiot.

“What about those nightmares from Seheron?”

“Those are rare and that happened a long time ago.” Bull sighed. “It’s been less than a week for you.”

“Then why don’t you give me some good memories to drown out the dark?”

Bull froze, mouth open.

“Look.” Dorian shook his head. “If _you_ don’t want to because you don’t feel like it or something, tell me and we’ll just go to bed. But if you’re holding back out of some silly notion that I’m going to break, then I am _going_ to strip down and finger myself until I cum all over myself and then go sleep somewhere else.”

Bull just stared at him, mouth still open.

“Besides, we’ll never know if I’m ready if we never _do_ anything.”

“I missed everything you just said.” Bull blinked hard. “That’s a pretty good mental image, kadan.”

“Do _you_ want to have sex?” Dorian asked, patiently.

“Yes.”

“Then, shut up and have sex with me.”

“Okay.” Bull settled himself against the headboard, eye focused entirely on Dorian. Dorian almost made a little desperate noise at that intensity. He had missed this. “So, I can’t touch you. Can I touch myself?”

“No.” Dorian nonchalantly slid his cloak from his shoulders.

“You’re _trying_ to torture me, kadan.” Bull groaned, putting his hands back behind his head. His pose was relaxed and languid on the bed, but Dorian could see the muscles of his arms clench and release as Bull held himself in check. His Qunari was barely holding on and it was arousing as hell to see.

“I am,” Dorian agreed, letting his hands trail up the ties on the front of his shirt. His mother had thoughtfully sent him some of his own clothes with her missive, but he had been wearing leftovers from the Chargers for the past few days. Bull’s eye focused entirely on Dorian’s long fingers. Dorian stopped his hands at the top tie and waited. Bull huffed out a soft sound, which made Dorian’s lips twitch.

“I’m going to break the rules of this game,” Bull said, voice rough.

“We’ve barely started.” Dorian chuckled.

“Yeah, but this is unfair, kadan.”

“Life’s not fair, amatus.”

“I’m going to rip that shirt off you. And then those pants. And when you’re naked, I’m going to suck your cock until you cum all over my face,” Bull decided. His arms were tight, though he didn’t move the rest of his body. “And then throw you on this bed and fuck you until you can’t even scream anymore.”

Dorian’s throat went dry. He breathed deeply, trying to keep his fingers from trembling in anticipation. He pulled the first tie apart and Bull sucked in a breath, unable to look away from the revealed golden skin. Spending time in his home country had brought the bronze back into Dorian’s skin tone. Dorian slid his fingers down and plucked at the next tie, revealed a bit more skin.

“I’m going to lick every inch of that delicious skin,” Bull continued, “looks like honey.”

Dorian held back a soft moan and pulled apart the last tie. Bull focus followed the line of the shirt down then back up to Dorian’s face. A slow, smug smile slid over his features. He knew how much this strip tease was affecting Dorian. And he was going to abuse that knowledge. Dorian needed to keep control if he didn’t want to get derailed. He dragged the shirt over his head, leaving him naked from the waist up. Bull got distracted by all the new skin. Dorian had no scars or flaws, thanks to healing magic, and even the torture had no physical reminders left on his form. The weight he lost during that week he rapidly gained back.

“When did you get those, kadan?” Bull asked, voice tight. Dorian glanced down to note the nipple rings. Dorian hadn’t gotten around to telling Bull about them. Honestly, he had no memories of actually _getting_ them, as Maevaris had gotten him _really_ drunk. He remembered the ache the next day and that she had mentioned something about enhancing pleasure, but the rest of the night was a blur. It was when Dorian swore off drinking with the woman. She could outdrink him any day of the week and then convince him into all sorts of ridiculousness. He drew the line at nipple rings.

“You saw me naked only a few nights ago,” Dorian pointed out, “you didn’t notice?”

“I was preoccupied with checking you for injuries.” Bull huffed out, impatiently. “I can’t be expected to notice _everything_ all the time…”

Dorian reached up and pulled his hair free from the tie, silencing his Qunari instantly. The silky strands fell over his shoulder in an inky waterfall. Dorian had allowed his hair to grow out when Bull admitted that he liked it long. His mother taught him how to tie in back in a myriad of ways to keep it out of his face. Bull brought his hands down to clench into tight fists on top of his thighs. His entire body was tense and his growing erection was perfectly visible through the fabric of his pants. The sight of it made Dorian’s mouth dry and his own arousal to make itself known. His fingers shook slightly as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the trousers.

“You’re not telling me what you want to do, amatus.” His voice came out smooth and calm, which surprised him. He was expecting breathy and desperate. It took Bull a few seconds to find his voice.

“I love your mouth, kadan.” He grinned. “Every time I look at you I just want those plush lips wrapped around my cock.” Dorian’s own cock jerked in reaction, but Dorian managed to keep his face relaxed. “But it’s been a while. Not sure if you can handle it anymore.”

Dorian’s ego demanded a response, but he needed to stay in charge. So he pushed the pants off his hips, letting them pool at his ankles. He kicked the fabric aside and leaned against the wall, wearing only his smallclothes, which were barely managing to hold back his straining arousal. Bull’s eye went exactly where Dorian expected. Dorian let his fingers trail along his torso, not touching himself, but just lightly brushing against his skin. Bull noticed the movement and swallowed tightly, waiting silently for Dorian to _do_ something. Bull sat up fully, his hands still clenched in tight fists on his knees, unable to hide his interest.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous, kadan,” he murmured. Dorian shut his eyes, tilting his head back against the wall, and gave himself permission to touch. His calloused fingers found his nipples and he sighed out a soft moan. He heard Bull suck in a sharp breath and smiled a bit. After toying with the gold rings for a few torturous minutes, Dorian let his hands run down his body. He peeked out from under his eyelids to make sure Bull was behaving. He was so tense, Dorian was a bit worried he’d pass out. When Dorian’s hand palmed the length of his erection, Bull hissed, his whole body rocking forward.

“You’re bad at this game, amatus,” Dorian teased, breathily. A dark groan emerged from Bull’s chest and he deliberately took a breath and relaxed himself.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” Bull said.

“You know what to say, then.” Dorian opened his eyes and looked his Qunari over, making sure he was reading everything correctly. Bull _said_ he didn’t want to play anymore, but his whole body was keyed up, his focus entirely on Dorian’s hands and their potential. Dorian didn’t want to push his lover beyond where he was comfortable. The seriousness in Dorian’s voice made Bull tear his gaze up to meet Dorian’s eyes. He smiled and shook his head slightly.

“You’ll have to try harder than that to get me to give in.”

Dorian smiled. The game was still on.

“Well, if you don’t say it, the game continues.” Dorian resettled himself against the wall. One hand twisted a gold ring, dragging sharp arousal up Dorian’s spine while his other hand palmed his cock. He moaned, probably louder than was strictly necessary, and rocked his hips forward into his hand. Bull swore under his breath. Dorian shoved his smallclothes down and kicked them aside. He propped one foot on the chair next to him, giving Bull a full view. Now was time for the oil. Good thing he found it first.

“Kadan…” Bull’s voice was demolished and utterly defeated. He watched, his whole body vibrating slightly, as Dorian slathered his fingers with oil and slid them inside himself. He threw his head back with a long, low moan, arching his back in pleasure. Was he playing it up? Probably a little, but he had gone too long unfulfilled. He needed Bull and he had no shame in demanding what he wanted.

“Ah… wish this was you, amatus.” Dorian was _definitely_ playing up the whiny tone, but a quick peek at his Qunari told him it was working.

Bull looked a split second away from losing his shit entirely. To be so close and not able to touch? It was a special kind of torture that Bull adored. They’d played this game a few times and Bull turned into a desperate, frantic mess of a man every time. Which was why Dorian chose this game to tempt Bull. If this didn’t work, nothing would.

“Your fingers are so much bigger than mine. Your cock is even bigger than that,” Dorian continued, rocking his hips back onto his fingers and forward into his hand. He was so on edge that he was afraid he was going to finish before Bull snapped. Not that it would stop them from having sex. Dorian had been fucked out post-orgasm on a few occasions. But that wasn’t what he wanted at the moment.

“I’ve got all my fingers inside me and yet I’m still so empty.” Dorian spoke to the silence, like he didn’t notice Bull’s plight. The man hadn’t even touched himself yet. “Wish I had your cock splitting me in half. _Please_, amatus.”

It was the ‘please’ that did it. A dark growl rumbled in Bull’s throat as he bolted to his feet. He strode across the room, face intense and hungry.

“You don’t want to play anymore?” Dorian teased, grinning.

“No.” Bull took Dorian’s face in his hands and stole his breath in a desperate kiss. Dorian forgot what he was doing in the wake of Bull’s need. Dorian disengaged his hands from his own body and wrapped his arms around his Qunari’s neck. All thoughts of teasing left. Bull crowded Dorian against the wall, just kissing him over and over and over. Bull’s hands trailed down Dorian’s sides until they found his ass. With a jerk, Bull hoisted Dorian onto his hips and pressed his back into the wall, trapping Dorian.

“Don’t stop, amatus,” Dorian begged, softly. There were a few awkward moments while Bull hunted down the bottle of oil, slid his pants down, and lubed himself up, but his lips found the soft spot behind Dorian’s ear, successfully distracting the magister with little effort. Dorian groaned, dropping his head back, as Bull slowly penetrated him. Despite all the teasing and playing, Bull was too concerned about Dorian’s state to rush things. So, he took his sweet time, drawing swear after precious swear from Dorian’s lips. Dorian’s fingers dug into Bull’s shoulders while he tried to relax the rest of his body.

“I love you, kadan,” Bull murmured, once their hips were fully seated against each other.

“I swear to the Maker I will _murder _you if you stop now,” Dorian growled. Bull huffed out a little laugh and mischievous fingers tugged on a nipple ring. Dorian writhed against his lover, adoring the sensation of being filled so completely and trapped against a wall with no purchase whatsoever. Their proximity forced his cock to rub against their stomachs while Bull slowly lifted him and lowered him on his massive girth.

“Patience.” Bull was teasing now, his mouth, lips, and tongue finding all the little sensitive places on Dorian’s neck and collarbone that he had forgotten about.

“Fuck me, amatus, _please_.” The slow grind together was amazing, but it wasn’t going to get either of them off. And Dorian had enough forced chastity in his life. He didn’t need it when he had another option.

Luckily, Bull was amenable to a change in plans. His hands palmed Dorian’s ass, holding him stable while he turned around and lowered them both to the bed. Bull propped his hands over Dorian’s shoulders and immediately launched into an aggressive assault on Dorian’s ass. His hips snapped forward again and again with enough force to shove Dorian up the bed. Bull’s hands kept Dorian from going too far, though. Dorian couldn’t get enough breath in his lungs for normal breathing, let alone enough to make any sort of noise. Bull watched Dorian’s face avidly, not seeming to even notice his own pleasure. Dorian, on the other hand, noticed little else. Bull’s cock rubbed firmly against his prostate. Dorian was on the brink, his body preparing for a world-shattering orgasm. Dorian arched his back, silently asking for more, faster, deeper.

When Bull’s hips started the rapid-fire thrusting, faster than anyone had any right to be able to go, he tore a startled cry from Dorian’s chest. The orgasm drew closer and closer, at a snail’s pace. Dorian dug his fingers into Bull’s back, chest heaving as breathless moans slipped between his lips. Sharp pleasure jolted through Dorian. Bull’s clever tongue found Dorian’s nipple, both laving at the sensitive flesh and also tugging at the piercing at once. The slight shift in angle and the sensation of having his nipples played with violently threw Dorian into his orgasm.

When Dorian came to, he was cuddled up to his Qunari with hot fingers trailing fire along his back gently. It was the best way to wake up, in Dorian’s not-so-humble opinion.

“You okay, kadan?” Bull asked, softly.

“Better than okay, amatus.” Dorian’s voice was rough. “Thank you.”

“You gotta start warning me about the whole ‘passing out from cumming too hard’ thing.” Bull sighed.

“I can’t tell when it’s going to happen.” Dorian yawned, snuggling even closer to his Qunari.

“Well, I don’t like it.” Bull obliged Dorian with a kiss.

“It’s only happened like twice.”

“Try half a dozen.” Bull rolled his eye.

“Half a dozen in three years isn’t that bad,” Dorian pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Did you finish?”

“I came as soon as you clenched on me like a goddamned vice.” Bull’s fingers moved into Dorian’s hair, sliding through the locks gently. “By the time I calmed down, you were a limp rag of a person.”

“Sorry.” Dorian kissed the scar closest to him. “In my defense, I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“I know. Still don’t like it.”

“I love you, amatus.”

“Love you, too, kadan.” Bull stole a long, lingering kiss. “Get some sleep.”

“You should sleep, too.”

“I will,” Bull promised to Dorian’s frown, “but first, I should probably go apologize to Cullen and Ellana for keeping them up.”

Dorian felt his face burn.

“Maker, was I _that_ loud?”

“It’s my favorite part.” Bull grinned. “If I can get you to cum so hard that you wake up an entire inn, then I did something right.”

“Oh, no.” Dorian buried his face into Bull’s chest with a groan.

“Don’t worry.” Bull brushed Dorian’s hair back with a shrug. “Chances are, we’ll overhear them having sex before they leave.”

“Somehow that’s less comforting than you think.”


	32. Getting Ready

Dorian didn’t know what he expected, honestly. When he returned home (escorted by Krem and Stitches in addition to Ellana and Cullen, because Bull wouldn’t take “no” for an answer), the mansion was still standing. Krem refused to enter the place again, so once Dorian was safely delivered to the front door, both he and Stitches returned to the Chargers. Morven greeted him warmly, expressing how glad he was that Dorian was safe before disappearing to go ensure dinner and a warm bath were ready for him. The other servants offered smiles and “welcome home” when he passed, but everything seemed disturbingly normal. Even his office was identical to how he left it. Frankly, Dorian would’ve liked it if _something_ felt different, other than himself, but everything was determinedly tidy. Probably his mother’s doing.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” Dorian led Ellana and Cullen through the mansion.

“It’s huge!” Ellana’s eyes were huge in her face.

“You have a _fortress_ and my mansion is huge?” Dorian teased.

“Skyhold isn’t mine.” Ellana flushed. “It’s a collective space. This is _yours_ and it’s _huge_!”

“This is nothing compared to the estate in Qarinus.” Aquinea made her appearance exactly as expected, walking down the stairs grandly. Dorian was surprised she hadn’t been announced, frankly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Inquisitor Lavellan.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Magister Thalrassian.” Ellana bowed. “This is my husband, Commander Cullen Rutherford.” Cullen also bowed, politely. Dorian rolled his eyes at his mother over their backs. Aquinea raised one eyebrow in warning.

“Mother, I’m home, too,” Dorian pointed out.

“Yes, I’ll deal with you later,” Aquinea replied, imperiously, “Morven, could you please show our guests to their rooms?”

“Of course, Magister Thalrassian.” Morven reappeared right on cue. “If you’ll follow me, please.” Ellana and Cullen followed the man up the stairs, only occasionally ogling the décor. Ellana looked like her eyes were going to pop out of her skull. Dorian almost laughed. Honestly, she’d been around plenty of rich people, she should have been at least a little prepared.

When they were out of sight, Dorian found himself enveloped in a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around his mother, gingerly. He couldn’t recall having _ever_ hugged his mother before. Her chest heaved against him, shuddering as she breathed. Dear Maker, if his mother was crying, Dorian was going to run screaming from the house. When she pulled back from him, there were no tears, but her eyes were dangerously close to overflowing. Gone was the unflappable, implacable magister. The woman touching his face was terrified and relieved all at once. It was the most human Dorian had ever seen her. Aquinea searched his face for a long time, mouth tight. Her hands shook slightly as they came up and took the braid in his hair out. She took the time to retie his hair in a smooth plait over his shoulder. She took a deep breath and stepped back from him, her expression back to its cool, polite façade.

“If you do that to me again, I will never speak to you again,” Aquinea said, archly.

“Yes, Mother,” Dorian murmured, unable to come up with any explanation for what had just happened. It was the closest thing to love and affection his mother ever gave him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“Now, we have guests, so behave.” The broken woman who had almost lost her only child had disappeared in an instant. Her poise was always so perfect. Dorian wondered if he had misjudged his mother. He was very much like his father, but there was so much more of his mother in him. If, at her core, she was just a woman trying to raise her son to survive, and just didn’t know how to do that in any other way. Dorian had met his grandparents and got the distinct impression that his mother went through the same childhood he did. Only instead of rebelling against the expectations placed on her, she embraced them. Aquinea Thalrassian is who Dorian would have turned into if he had actually given up and married Livia Herathinos.

“Yes, Mother.” Dorian felt his lips twitch up. He and his mother didn’t always get along, but something had finally changed for the better. Aquinea gave him a small smile in return, a little glimpse behind the mask.

“Now, we have things to discuss. I know that your lover is in the area. Were you planning on introducing us properly?”

All charitable thoughts towards the woman fled in an instant.

“No,” Dorian’s reply was immediate.

“Your young man and I have been in contact for very nearly a year now.” Aquinea tilted her head, silently telling Dorian she didn’t like his answer. “He is very intelligent and observant, from what I can tell. You don’t want your mother to meet your lover?”

“Not even once.”

“Why not?”

“He’s…” Dorian sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Mother, he _can’t_ come here.” Dorian was _not_ going to tell his mother that Bull was Qunari. No torture could be devised to get him to admit that to his mother. Based on the fact that she thought well of him meant that Bull hadn’t spilled that little secret either.

“Then, I’ll visit him.” She wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer.

“You can’t,” Dorian lied, “he’s got another job lined up in Orlais. Left as soon as I let him know I got home safely.”

“You haven’t contacted him that you’ve gotten home safely yet.”

Curse his mother and her ability to just _know_ things.

“His people escorted me home,” Dorian got out, quickly, “they’re the ones who sent the message.”

“So contact him through your sending crystal and tell him to wait.” Aquinea was far too proper to shrug, but her voice gave every indication that the motion would have existed if she were any less restrained.

“Mother, I don’t want you to meet him,” Dorian gritted out.

“Why not?” She tilted her head slightly, eyes focused on her son with unnerving attention. “He’s not human, is he?”

_Shit._ Dorian would _not_ answer that question.

“Dorian! Your house is fucking massive!” Ellana saved the day by appearing at the top of the stairs.

“My dear, this house is tiny compared to what we have in Qarinus.” Dorian turned with a bright grin, happily taking the distraction.

“I’m _so_ sliding down this.” Ellana gestured to the bannister. Dorian didn’t have to look to see the anguish on his mother’s face. He saw it echoed quite plainly in Cullen’s face as he stepped up beside his wife. There was also resignation there, because he knew how fruitless it was to convince Ellana out of something.

“I’ve done it many times,” Dorian chuckled, “very thrilling. Especially when you’re trying not to get caught.”

“Ha!” Ellana put her hands on her hips. “I don’t fear getting caught!”

“If _Leliana_ couldn’t catch you, I doubt anyone could.”

“Ellana…” Cullen touched her arm, even though his eyes spoke of the futility of the action.

“I’m here to catch you, dear Inquisitor!” Dorian moved to the bottom of the staircase. Ellana kicked her boots off and jumped onto the top of the bannister. Her feet were wearing socks, which surprised Dorian. Honestly, the woman ran around Skyhold barefoot all the time, so coming up north and wearing socks was a little out of character. Maybe it was Cullen’s influence. Ellana slid rapidly down the bannister, keeping her balance with some frantic arm waving. She flew off the bottom, straight into Dorian, knocking them both to the ground in hysterical laughter.

“I was expecting you to ride it down on your butt, Ell!” Dorian struggled to breathe through his laughter.

“That’s _way_ less fun!”

“I apologize, Magister Thalrassian.” Cullen sighed, walking demurely down the stairs.

“Don’t fret, Commander Rutherford.” Dorian glanced up at his mother in surprise. She was hiding a smile. When had he started seeing behind her mask? “I’ve heard many things about Inquisitor Lavellan and her influence on my son. I’m starting to see that there _is_ no influence at work here.”

“Just two friends having a good time,” Dorian agreed, congenially.

“I rather think you two are more similar than just friends,” Aquinea pointed out.

“Darn. She saw through us so fast,” Ellana stage-whispered to Dorian.

“What are we going to do?” Dorian hissed back.

“Run for it?”

“We’re on the ground,” Dorian pointed out, “they’d catch us.”

“Only you.”

“What?”

“I’d shove you at them to make my escape.”

“You’d _betray_ me?!”

“In a heartbeat.”

Their audience was unamused, though Dorian and Ellana had face-cracking grins on.

“Dinner is served,” Morven interrupted the shenanigans. He didn’t even bat an eye at Dorian and Ellana’s tangled bodies strewn about the foyer. Dorian decided he wasn’t paying the man enough. Of course, once they were settled at the table, Ellana stole the attention by pulling her arm off to steal a piece of bread from Dorian’s plate. Dorian threatened to steal her arm if she tried that again. So, of course, she did. Dorian successfully managed to get the arm, but a dirty look from his mother made him give it back.

“So, my son says he met his lover in the Inquisition.” Aquinea made the statement sound like a question. “I assume you’ve both met him.” Cullen coughed nervously, turning red and looking furiously at his plate. Ellana blinked wide eyes at Dorian.

“Yes, ma’am.” Ellana managed to get out before stuffing her mouth with some food as an excuse to not talk.

“I’ve been exchanging letters with the young man, but my sweet son refuses to allow the two of us to meet,” Aquinea continued, conversationally.

“Mother.” Dorian gritted out, glowering at her. “You’re making our guests uncomfortable.”

“Nonsense.” She looked at Cullen with a smile. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Commander?”

“Uh… t-that is… I mean…”

“_Mother!_” Dorian bit every word off. “This is not a conversation to have in front of _guests_.”

“Dorian.” Aquinea turned a soft smile to her son. “I have a surprise for you tomorrow morning. It’s a formal affair, so be sure to dress up. Maevaris will be here to assist you prior.”

Dorian looked at Ellana and Cullen, who both were avoiding his gaze.

“I see.”

“It’s fine, darling.” Aquinea waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve gotten everything settled. Of course, the Inquisitor and Commander have been invited. Magister Maevaris will be by to escort you to the event.”

Dorian narrowed his gaze at his mother. It wasn’t anyone’s birthday, as far as he was aware. She specifically said it was for _him_, and he couldn’t think of anything of note that merited an _event_. He looked at Ellana and Cullen, both bright red and staring at their plates.

“You’ve known about this,” he realized, “_that’s_ why you came up to Minrathous.”

“You were kidnapped, Dor!” Ellana frowned at him. “_Of course_, I’d come up to help find you!”

“Yes, but you were already planning a trip when you got word I was taken.”

Ellana stuffed a forkful of food into her mouth and looked back at her plate.

“Morven!” Dorian called.

“Yes, Magister Pavus?” The man stepped up to his elbow.

“What is she planning?” Dorian pointed his spoon at his mother, who demurely took small bites of food like nothing was wrong.

“I’m afraid Magister Thalrassian has bid my silence in this matter, magister,” Morven said, “however, I _can_ tell you that you will be amenable to what she has planned.”

Aquinea smiled at him, as if to say _“see?”_, and it just irritated Dorian.

“Mother, I’m not a fan of the surprises this family has thrown me,” he snapped.

“That was then.” She set her fork down, firmly. “Now, I want you to be happy. If you arrive to the event tomorrow and you do not wish to partake, then it will be cancelled immediately.”

“Why can’t I cancel it now?”

“Because you don’t know what it is.”

“So, tell me.”

“That would ruin the surprise.”

He was going to kill her. That was his only option left.

Ellana and Cullen slipped away from dinner before they got into any more trouble and Aquinea abandoned Dorian soon after. He made his displeasure known with loud grumbling and complaining as he made his way to bed.

“_Las’dirth_,” he murmured to his crystal.

“Kadan!” Bull’s voice was anxious. “What’s wrong?”

“My mother is driving me insane,” Dorian whined.

“You scared me.” Bull sighed.

“We spoke nearly every night for a year on these _before_ I was kidnapped,” Dorian replied, a little apologetically.

“Yeah, but the kidnapping was more recent.”

“Touché. Sorry.”

“What did your mom do now?”

“She’s got some ‘event’ that she’s making me go to tomorrow, but she won’t tell me what it is.”

“Does she know you don’t like surprises?”

“Yes, she does,” Dorian growled.

“Well, maybe you’ll like it.”

Dorian huffed out a sarcastic chuckle.

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“You got your sense of taste from your mom, right?”

“It won’t be ugly or tacky, amatus, but Mother likes big, grandiose balls and such with people I couldn’t care less about.” Dorian sighed.

“So, don’t go.”

“I _have_ to go.” Dorian flopped on his bed with a whine.

“You don’t,” Bull insisted, “just tell her ‘no’.”

Dorian made a grumble of frustration. Bull didn’t understand his mother if he thought it would be that easy.

“Besides, aren’t you a little curious?” Bull continued, ignoring Dorian’s whining.

“What?”

“Don’t you want to know what she’s got planned?”

“Yeah, but I wish she’d just _tell_ me.” Dorian huffed.

“She’s not going to tell you,” Bull replied, “she’s going to _show_ you. But only if you go. So, the only way to know what she’s got planned is to go.”

“I don’t _want_ to go.”

“So, you don’t care what she’s got planned. Don’t go.”

“I want to _know_, though.”

“So, go.”

“You are so unhelpful.”

Bull chuckled.

“Look, kadan, you gotta decide which you care about more. Would you rather know what’s going on and be forced to go to this event, or would you be happy not knowing and not going?”

Bull knew him too well.

“Look, I just wanted to complain.” Dorian sighed. “Stop making rational arguments.”

“Oh. Well, then, by all means, continue.”

Dorian sighed yet again. He wasn’t sure where to go with his complaining. He pretty much covered it all.

“Ugh, you’ve ruined it, now.”

Bull laughed.

“Well, if you’re not busy, we could always have a little fun…” He said, suggestively.

“You haven’t left yet?”

“Nah, we’re taking another night here ‘cause we need to get started first thing in the morning to get to our next job in time.”

“Ah.”

“So, do you wanna have fun, kadan?” Bull was grinning, Dorian could hear it. He couldn’t help smiling in response, right before checking to make sure his door was shut.

Dorian was rudely awakened the next morning by Maevaris barging into his room. She threw open his curtains, letting the bright sunlight blind him before he could properly wake up. A body landed in the bed next to him as he struggled to wake his mind up.

“Dor! Friends! Put the fireball down!” Ellana’s voice was loud and it startled him. He blinked hard a few times and realized he was preparing to attack the intruders. The intruders being his best friends. He extinguished the flames on his fingers, thankful he had managed to keep his sheets from catching the blaze.

“_Fasta vass_, you scared me!” He snapped, irritably.

“Sorry.” Ellana pressed a kiss to his cheek. “We were just excited about today.”

“Why?” Dorian glowered at the elf, even though she was apologizing.

“Because reasons.” Maevaris sat on his bed, demurely. “Get up. We have things to do.”

“Neither of you are dressed up,” Dorian pointed out. In fact, Ellana was still in her pajamas.

“Yes, but it’s going take time to get you into something you like that’s appropriate.” Maevaris shrugged.

“It would help if you told me what the event _is_.”

“That’s true, but we all know that we’re not talking, so deal with it.” Maevaris was uncompromising and merciless.

“We _can_ tell you that you’ll have to be in a chantry.” Ellana gave him a crumb of information, but it just made his brain hurt. Everything made _less_ sense with that information.

It did take a good hour just figuring out what to wear. Dorian grabbed a few outfits that were formal enough for going to the chantry, but casual enough for him to be prepared for _any_ occasion. Maevaris kept telling him it wasn’t formal _enough_. Ellana eventually felt pity for him and revealed that his mother had commissioned an outfit for him for this event. Dorian lobbed a pillow at Maevaris for making him suffer her commentary for an hour.

The clothing was white and gold, which surprised Dorian completely. Dark colors were usually preferred in Tevinter high society. As intricate and detailed as Orlesian formal wear with none of the volume or movement-impaired effects. It fit Dorian perfectly, which he only expected from his mother. And it was exactly to his taste, except for the color. When he stepped out from behind the changing screen (which he didn’t even know _why_ he was using, since neither woman was even remotely interested in him), both Maevaris and Ellana just stared at him for a moment. Dorian didn’t usually feel self-conscious, but the staring was unsettling in the extreme.

“What?” He snapped.

“You look so good!” Ellana grinned.

“Well, we have to do something about your hair, first,” Maevaris said, critically, “but, you clean up well, Pavus.”

“Oh, and you need your makeup.” Ellana nodded, sagely.

“Be careful not to get the kohl on your clothes!”

“This is ridiculous,” Dorian informed them, “you two aren’t even ready yet.”

“I’ve got my makeup on!” Maevaris argued, “And, my dress is here, I just didn’t want to put it on yet.”

“This is absurd, you know that, right?” Dorian went to his mirror and went through the motions of his normal morning routine. Except _nothing_ was normal about this morning. His anxiety was through the roof to the point where he almost just screwed up his kohl. And he nearly forgot to trim his jaw of the stubble he gained overnight. Ellana noticed because she hugged him from behind, pressing her forehead to the space between his shoulder blades.

“I promise: you’re going to like this. It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t like surprises, Ell.”

“I know.” She didn’t let go. “Do you wanna talk to Bull?”

“Bull?” Maevaris asked, “Is that the big Qunari who met with me when we were trying to find you?”

Shit. Dorian forgot that she didn’t know.

“When is this event even _happening_?” Dorian changed the subject completely. “Because there’s no point in me spending all this time and energy if it’s going to be hours before I have to be there.”

“You’ve got time to take your time.” Maevaris went with the topic change easily. “But not so much time that you’ll be bored. Actually, I was going to enlist your help in assisting the Inquisitor with _her_ attire.”

“What?” Ellana glowered at the other mage. “My outfit is fine!”

“Well, it’s acceptable.” Maevaris sighed. “But you _have_ to put on some makeup. And we _have_ to fix your hair.”

“My hair is fine!”

Once the attention was off Dorian, he was able to finally relax. The bickering about Ellana actually calmed him down a bit. Still, he’d need to talk to Bull before he could properly be prepared for this disaster.

“Here, I’ll go get dressed, you go get dressed, and we’ll compare,” Ellana suggested, “Dorian, you’re the judge!” The elf shot him a wink as she shooed Maevaris from the room. She knew him too well.

“Kadan?” Bull’s voice was surrounded by loud clamoring when he answered the crystal. “Oi! Shut it!”

“What’s that, Chief?” That was Krem’s voice. Bull must’ve given Krem a specific look, because a sharp whistle shut the cacophony up, but it made Dorian flinch at how piercing it sounded through the crystal. Dorian heard Bull moving until a door clicked shut.

“Kadan? You okay?” Bull asked, voice quiet.

“I’m rather not,” Dorian admitted, softly.

“So, what’s wrong?”

“My mother made me formal clothes for this event and they’re… wrong.”

“How so?”

“The wrong color. True formal attire should be dark. And these are white. With gold accents.”

“Okay…?”

“It’s not right.” Dorian sighed. “It’s going to make me stand out.” It was so ridiculous when he said the words. He _liked_ standing out. But not when he didn’t know what he was walking into.

“Well, she said the event was _for_ you.”

Dorian didn’t reply.

“Kadan, do you think that Boss would let your mother put you in a dangerous situation?”

“No.”

“What would she do if she thought you were in danger?”

“She’d cut her way through the crowd to get to me.”

“And then?”

“Then, she’d kill everyone who upset me.”

Somehow, the idea of Ellana killing his countrymen was comforting instead of upsetting.

“And she wouldn’t care who she’d upset doing that, right?”

“True.” Dorian sighed. “I just wish you could be here.”

“I know, kadan.”

“Sorry. I’m just whining.”

“I’m here for you, always. You know that.”

“Yeah, but I’m so much more a mess than you are.”

“Say that to my nightmares,” Bull replied, dryly, “I get sick _way_ more often than you, too. And, I’ve got a bad ankle and knee. _I_ am the mess, here.”

It was so ridiculous that Dorian chuckled.

“What?”

“You’re absurd.”

“Yeah, well that’s what I think whenever you apologize for needing support. I promised you that we’re together forever, kadan. That includes helping you when you need it.”

“Qunari married?” Dorian teased.

“Yep.” Bull was grinning. “And, while Qunari don’t do the marriage thing the way you southerners do, we take those vows seriously.”

“Excuse me, I am not _southern_.”

“Compared to Par Vollen, you are.”

“You take that back.”

“No.”

Ellana burst into the room, loudly, interrupting their squabbling. Maevaris wasn’t behind her, but it was enough of a warning that Dorian knew he had to stop talking to his Qunari.

“Do you feel better?” Bull asked, softly.

“Yes. Thank you, amatus.”

“Anytime, kadan. I mean it.”

“What do you think?” Ellana asked, loudly, once Dorian had shut down the connection to Bull. Dorian turned to look at her. She wore a beautiful sheath dress, the color of dark wine. Honestly, it was unfair how pretty she was. The hair tied back in a messy bun ruined the effect, though. Then, Maevaris strutted through the door, wearing a dark blue dress with a silver corset that gave her flawless curves. Maevaris had her hair curled and pinned back from her face and her makeup was pristine.

“I think you’re both beautiful,” Dorian replied, honestly, “but, Ell, you _need_ some help.”

“What?” Ellana whined, looking down at her dress.

“It’s not the dress, dear, it’s your hair. And, you _desperately_ need some kohl and rouge.”

“I don’t think I need it.” She pouted, crossing her arms.

“Would you like your husband to forget his own name when he looks at you?” Maevaris asked.

“Remember what he was like when we got back from the Winter Palace?” Dorian grinned. “It’ll be like that, but a hundred times more intense.”

“Ugh, fine.” Ellana sat on the bed, her eyes still looking at Dorian. He realized she was putting up a fight to keep the attention on herself. It was helping his anxiety and he was irritated that he was that obvious. “Do your worst!”

“Dorian, fix your hair and I’ll get started on hers.” Maevaris waved him off. Dorian spent a long time shifting his hair to drape over one shoulder in loose, silky waves. When he turned around, satisfied that he was as attractive as he could possibly be, he saw Maevaris twisting Ellana’s hair into a complicated updo. Ellana had one of her knives clenched tightly in a fist, but was silent as Maevaris attacked the strands ruthlessly.

“Mae, you can be gentle,” Dorian admonished. She ignored him and shoved a hair pin into place. She took her hands off Ellana’s head and eyed her work critically. Ellana breathed out, letting her hands relax with the pressure relieved from her scalp.

“See? Isn’t that better?” Maevaris shoved Ellana towards the mirror, lazily. Ellana stared blankly at her reflection.

“I mean, it looks really nice…” She replied, slowly.

“But, it’s no good for running around the wilderness hunting down Venatori, demons, and old Elvhen gods,” Dorian finished, grinning. Ellana’s gaze thanked him profusely for stepping in.

“Well, good thing you’re not doing that today.” Maevaris shrugged. “So, you can go ahead and say I’m amazing.”

“It _does_ look amazing,” Ellana agreed, easily enough.

“Now, let’s fix your face.”

“My face?!”

Dorian laughed at Ellana’s dismay.

“It won’t be too much, Ell. I promise.”

Ellana muttered a few choice curses under her breath, but allowed Maevaris and Dorian to give her a makeover. When she looked back in the mirror, her eyes widened. Dorian grinned. Focusing on Ellana made him relax about things. Bull was right: if Ellana thought he was in danger, she’d put a stop to the whole thing, no problem. As long as he had his pet attack Inquisitor, everything would be fine.

Aquinea made an appearance as soon as Ellana threatened to hold Maevaris down and ruin _her_ makeup if the woman kept touching her face. Dorian was laughing at the two women when he spotted his mother. She stood in the doorway, smiling and looking at him. He sat upright. She wiped at her face, which just freaked Dorian right the fuck out. She wore a new dress, dark green and embroidered with (knowing her) real gold. She looked regal and dignified and every bit as poised as the true magister she was. Her hair fell in thick waves down her back, marking the first time in Dorian’s life he saw her hair free from its constant braid.

“Mother.” Dorian smiled at her, pretending he missed the tears she hastily hid. “Do join us.”

“I’m afraid we need to get moving if we don’t want to be late.” Aquinea’s voice interrupted whatever threat Ellana was bestowing upon Maevaris. “You all look lovely.”

“Thank you.” Ellana shifted in her dress, tugging the fabric into a more comfortable fit.

“Well, I worked hard to look this good.” Maevaris nodded approvingly at the compliment.

“None of us more radiant than you, Mother.” Dorian stepped forward and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. It was flattery of the highest order and Aquinea enjoyed every second of it.

“I’m not going to tell you what’s going on, no matter how many compliments you throw my way,” she informed Dorian, coolly.

“Well, at least I got a decent outfit out of this.” Dorian spun around, letting the women admire the fit and cut of the new robes. The only downside that Dorian could see was that his dragon tooth necklace couldn’t be hidden under his collar. Instead, the shirt was cut in such a way that it accentuated the piece of jewelry. Dorian didn’t want to have to explain to everyone about the necklace, and he’d have to considering the sending crystal was directly next to the tooth. Anyone with even a modicum of magical understanding would recognize the gem. It was why he got kidnapped in the first place. He wasn’t much pleased to be showing it off.

“You look very handsome, Dorian,” his mother agreed, “now, downstairs. The carriage is waiting.”

“Why do we need a carriage?” Dorian asked. “We’re just going to the chantry, right?”

Aquinea looked straight at Ellana. Dorian had been under the scrutiny of such a look many times before, and always squirmed like he had done something wrong, even when he hadn’t. Ellana merely looked back at his mother, unashamed and undaunted.

“The carriage waits,” Aquinea repeated, instead of answering, “Maevaris, your carriage is also ready and waiting.”

“Thank you.” Maevaris followed her out of the room. Ellana looked at Dorian, grinning widely.

“You look hot, Dor.”

“_You_ look gorgeous, Ell.”

“Ellana? We’ve got to get…” Cullen knocked on the door, tentatively, and his voice trailed off when he spotted his wife. Dorian bit back immature giggles at the dumbstruck expression on the commander’s face. Ellana wasn’t so reserved. She grinned broadly and walked up to him.

“Are you ready to go, Cullen?” She asked.

Cullen didn’t seem capable of speech.

“Let’s get going before my mother hurts us all.” Dorian took Ellana’s arm and led her out of the room. “He can ravish you later, when we aren’t running late.”

“Well, if I’m loud enough to keep you up, you deserve the payback.” Ellana informed him, dutifully.

If Dorian was red-faced when he and Ellana caught up with Aquinea at the front door, nobody made mention of it.


	33. Surprise!

The ride to the chantry took forever, which was unexpected, as they didn’t live too terribly far away from it. Dorian felt his nerves rise with every second he was cooped up in the small space. His mother pretended not to notice his anxiety rising. Ellana held his hand tightly, trying to comfort him as best she could. Cullen, predictably enough, couldn’t keep his eyes off his wife and had yet to say a single word. Dorian was too preoccupied with this mysterious event that he couldn’t even bring himself to tease the man about it. Dorian was the last to be let out the carriage and froze when he stepped outside.

It wasn’t the chantry he was expecting. Instead of the one near their home, it was one of the chantries on the outskirts of the city. The chantries in Minrathous were richly decorated on a normal day, but it was obvious his mother got her hands on this one, because there were flowers and streamers everywhere, marking the building as the site of a major celebration. Dorian stared at the doorway with more than a little trepidation. He wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to know what was going on anymore. The people milling about outside were a weird mix of Lucerni members and a family friends. There were members of the Inquisition, too, which just confused the entire scenario. Maevaris was talking with Varric and Cole. Blackwall was assisting Josephine up the steps of the chantry. Even Vivienne was there, speaking with Aquinea steadily. Dorian abruptly realized that Vivienne meeting his mother was a million times worse than any other scenario he had thought of. And it was too late to run away, because he had been spotted.

The throng of people made their way into the chantry, while Dorian still stood, struck dumb. He couldn’t remember how to walk, and if he could, he’d be running as far from the building as possible. He wasn’t interested in his mother’s scheming anymore. He didn’t want to know what was going on. Ellana stepped forward, into his vision.

“Dor, breathe,” she ordered.

He obediently sucked in air.

“Now, relax. Everything is going to be fine.” She smiled at him. “And if you don’t like it, I’ll rescue you.”

“I thought you said I was going to like this.” He tried for flippant and ended up with wooden.

“You are,” Ellana said, soothingly, “If you don’t like this, you can punch me in the face.”

“Dorian,” Cullen spoke up, “trust me: you’re going to like this.”

Dorian took a deep breath and tried to ignore the nausea and lightheadedness. He trusted Ellana and Cullen. If they said he was going to like this, he probably was going to. He just didn’t like the unknown. The last time he got a surprise from his parents, he had a big row with his father in a little tavern in Redcliffe. The time before that, his father had tried to use blood magic to erase his homosexuality.

“If I don’t like this, I’m going to set you both on fire,” Dorian decided, finding his courage.

“Good.” Ellana grinned. “Now, let’s go walk into that chantry. All you have to do is take a few steps and then you’ll know _exactly_ what’s going on.”

“You _could_ just tell me,” Dorian reminded her.

“It’s only a few stairs, Dorian.” Cullen goaded him, lightly. “You can’t handle some stairs?”

Okay, rude. Dorian was struggling and his friends were mocking him. Still, Cullen was right. He needed to suck it the fuck up. Dorian straightened his shoulders, fixed his robes, and determinedly walked into the chantry.

The inside was as ornately decorated as the outside (his mother’s influence). The pews were filled to the brim with Lucerni, Inquisition, and family. The front left row held his mother, a couple of empty spots (presumably for Ellana and Cullen), and Maevaris. The front two rows on the right were stuffed with the Chargers. The altar was under a flower archway that had little mage lights floating amongst the blossoms. And, right in the middle, was Urian Nihalias. Dorian’s brain took a small vacation while he figured out how in the fuck his mother got the _Black Divine _to be present. Next to him, wearing an outfit to match Dorian’s, was the Iron Bull in all his Qunari glory. Dorian’s heart stopped at the sight. Not just because his amatus was standing directly next to a man powerful enough to destroy the building with a thought, but also because his two worlds just collided in a distressingly real way. Bull was also unbearably handsome in the white coat and pants. Bull spotted him and his eye widened and his mouth opened, like he gasped in shock.

It was a wedding.

It was _his_ wedding.

“I’m going to set you both on fire,” Dorian muttered. Ellana laughed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Told you so.” She took Cullen’s hand and led him to their seats at the front.

Bull’s eye was entirely focused on him, solemnly searching Dorian’s expression.

_“I hate you,”_ Dorian mouthed.

Bull’s face cracked into a giant grin.

The audience worked their way into silence as Dorian made his way up the aisle to join his Qunari next to the Black Divine. Dorian had no fucking idea how his mother managed to arrange a _wedding_ in the Imperium _with a male_, ignoring the fact that said male was _Qunari_. How did she convince Urian to agree to such a ceremony? (She probably threatened him, honestly.)

“We are gathered here today to witness the union of Magister Dorian Pavus to his amatus, the Iron Bull, of Bull’s Chargers.” Urian’s voice silenced the last few mutterings of the audience. He said a few more words, but Dorian honestly couldn’t pay attention to what those words were.

“I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this man the rest of my days.” Bull spoke the vows and Dorian’s brain caught up with what was happening. He was _getting married!_ He couldn’t stop the grin that crossed his features (not that he tried).

“I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this man the rest of my days,” Dorian said, when it was his turn.

Bull’s smile warmed Dorian’s insides until he was just a big gooey mess. He missed whatever Urian was saying in favor of focusing on that feeling, that love. But then, Bull was kissing him and people were cheering and flower petals drifted down over them. Bull pulled back slightly to grin at Dorian.

“Surprise, kadan.”

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep, amatus.”

Bull intertwined their fingers and pressed a kiss to Dorian’s knuckles, chuckling at Dorian’s words. He led the way from the altar, down the aisle, and out the doors. Someone had decorated the yard of the chantry while the ceremony was going on, because what had been merely a grassy space had been reimagined into an imitation of a grand ballroom. Bull led Dorian to the far side of the yard, keeping them out of reach of all the well-wishers streaming from the chantry.

“How long has this been going on?” Dorian asked, turning to his newly-minted husband. _Husband_. It was so weird. It didn’t feel real.

“Over a year.” Bull replied with a shrug. “It took that long to get everyone’s schedules synched up and to get a priest to do the ceremony.” Dorian thought back to what had been happening a year prior.

“Wait…” He glowered at Bull. “Did you start planning this at the Exalted Council?”

“You wanted to get married.” Bull shrugged, not even remotely ashamed.

“I very specifically said that I _didn’t_.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘I gave up on that dream a long time ago’, implying that you wished you _could_ get married.” Bull tugged Dorian into his arms, shamelessly. “We were married by my people’s standards, but not by yours. I wanted to do this for you.”

Dorian felt his face heat up and couldn’t find any words to respond.

“Congratulations!” Ellana’s bright voice saved him from making a fool of himself. She threw herself at Dorian with a tight hug before hugging Bull. “I’m so happy for you two!”

“It’s about time,” Cullen agreed, grinning as he shook their hands, “you two are good together.”

“Thanks.” Bull grinned.

“How long have you two known?” Dorian asked, suspiciously.

“A year.”

“I am _so_ setting you two on fire.”

Ellana laughed and pulled Cullen along to let everyone else have a turn at congratulating the newlyweds.

“Congratulations.” Aquinea joined them, smiling politely. Dorian hugged his mother, startling her. He was a little giddy.

“I hate you,” he informed her, dutifully.

“I know, darling.” Aquinea helped smooth the collar of his robes down.

“So, you’ve been harassing me about meeting him just for fun, haven’t you?”

“Not entirely.” Aquinea huffed out a soft laugh. “I only met him in person this morning, and I _did_ want to meet him. But, I figured he was Qunari when he sent me his measurements for his suit.”

“That doesn’t bother you?” Dorian asked, unsure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

“Would I _prefer_ a different race? Absolutely. But, the Iron Bull and I have been communicating for a year now. He is utterly and completely in love with you. My preference doesn’t matter in the slightest. Especially not in the face of your happiness.”

It was blunt and honest and not at all what Dorian was expecting. He figured she’d have a conniption and then threaten to keep Dorian hostage until he came to his senses and stopped spending any time with a Qunari. Prejudices died hard. But, maybe Aquinea wasn’t nearly as prejudiced as Dorian assumed.

“I’ve never seen you as happy as when you devoted yourself to him,” she continued, softly, “it’s everything I could wish for you.” She turned to Bull and narrowed her gaze. “If you hurt my son, I will hunt you down and poison you with the most painful, slowest poison I have.”

“Understood.” Bull nodded, solemnly. Dorian rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, mother.” He intervened between the two of them and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “But, no more surprises, please? My poor heart can’t handle it.”

“You love it,” Aquinea chuckled before moving along.

“About time!” Krem took over next, the Chargers right behind him. “It only took you two forever!”

“How long did it take you to ask Maryden out on a date again?” Dorian tilted his head, pretending to think.

“Two years,” Bull answered, grinning.

“Don’t listen to them.” Maryden spoke up for herself, leading Krem away. “I think you’re sweet.” Krem still threw an insult over his shoulder in Tevene, making Dorian grin. The receiving line took a while to get through. Most of Dorian’s friends were unsurprised that his husband was a Qunari, mostly because they figured he’d go to that extreme. A few family friends made some thinly-veiled racist comments, but Bull’s stature was a pretty good deterrent. Also, Dorian might’ve pulled out a fireball or two to remind them that he was a powerful mage in his own right. Mostly, everyone was polite. Dorian noted that his mother, Vivienne, and Maevaris were lingering behind him, obviously eavesdropping and making sure that no one said or did anything to upset him. Their presence was probably the reason everyone _was_ polite, honestly.

Music started playing at some point and then people were dancing and Dorian realized that all he wanted to do was sit the hell down. Bull must’ve come to the same realization, because he brought Dorian to a pair of chairs, away from the improvised dance floor. Dorian held Bull’s hand tightly, afraid that if he let go that reality would come sweeping back in and ruin everything. Already, his mind was whirling, trying to figure out how to get Bull out of Minrathous safely.

“You’re thinking too hard, kadan,” Bull murmured, leaning over to him.

“This is impossible,” Dorian replied, “marriage between two men doesn’t exist in Tevinter, much less marrying a _Qunari_.”

“Honestly, it was the gay bit that threw your priest guy more than the Qunari bit,” Bull admitted.

“How did this happen?” Dorian shook his head. “It doesn’t even change anything, because it’s still not safe for you here.”

“This was only a formality for us, kadan.” Bull kissed his temple, gently. “You and I were already tied together, even before we got Qunari married. But, it was something I knew you wanted, and your mother wanted it, so we worked hard to make sure everything worked out.”

“Bull, you’re _in Minrathous_.” Dorian tried to figure out how to get his husband to understand how deeply dangerous this was. “You’ll be killed and I won’t be able to _do_ anything.”

“Not true.” Aquinea settled in a chair next to them, though Dorian could’ve sworn there wasn’t another chair nearby.

“Mother, you brought him here for this silly ceremony and I can’t protect him _all the time_ and…” Dorian trailed off at his mother’s patient expression.

“See? I told you we should’ve told him the details first.” Bull sighed, shaking his head.

“Then, he wouldn’t have had his lovely surprise.” Aquinea waved Bull’s words away. “Are you ready to take a deep breath and listen to me while I tell you about my wedding gift?”

“And, it’s not a silly ceremony,” Bull muttered.

“Sorry.” Dorian squeezed Bull’s wrist. It had taken a full year for Bull and Aquinea to arrange everything. They were both very intelligent. They probably had an exit strategy. Dorian couldn’t see what it was, but he’d only been looking at the problem for a matter of minutes, whereas they’d been working on this for a year. He took a deep breath and nodded at his mother.

“I instituted a new law in the Magisterium that allows for protective measures for the immediate family of magisters. Any right, short of voting, given to a magister, will be extended to the immediate family, like spouses and children,” Aquinea explained, calmly.

“Yes, I remember that one.” Dorian nodded. “But, that came from…”

“Me,” Aquinea interrupted, “you should know, darling, that all of my ideas ‘come from’ other magisters. It allows me the ability to be wooed and won to one side or the other and it gives me insight into my opposition.”

Dorian was _never_ going to underestimate his mother ever again.

“Now, I have also been working on reopening negotiations with the Qunari,” Aquinea continued, “which has been a project of mine long before the Inquisition. This ‘war’ is silly and ridiculous and it just costs everyone money. I’ve been making great strides in the past few years, thanks primarily _to_ the Inquisition. Likely because of you and your husband.”

Dorian liked hearing the title. Probably too much. Bull noticed, because he squeezed Dorian’s wrist.

“The Magisterium saw a Tevinter mage and a Qunari work together without issues. So, I’ve been able to extend efforts of, perhaps not peace per se, but peaceful overtures towards Par Vollen. The Arigena, I believe is her title, has been receptive to these overtures. While you were gone, I got the Magisterium to agree to allow craftsmen Qunari, in trader purposes only, enter Minrathous. Granted, they will be in a protected area on the docks and there is a limited number of them who can enter, and it is _only_ in Minrathous, but it’s a start. We’ve already had a handful of craftsmen selling their wares with little issues.”

Dorian just stared at his mother. How she had managed to accomplish _any_ of that was a feat beyond reckoning.

“So, while I cannot guarantee the Iron Bull’s safety, it will be significantly safer, since people will be used to seeing Qunari. Also, because he is your husband, he will be afforded all the protections of a magister.”

Dorian blinked.

“That’s why you got Urian Nihalias,” he realized, “because any other chantry priest or mother could be denounced. But, the Black Divine speaks for the Maker himself. How did you manage to convince him to marry me to a _male Qunari_?”

Aquinea smiled and Dorian was abruptly terrified. “Let’s just say, I know of a skeleton or two in dear Urian’s closet.”

He _knew_ she threatened him.

“So, I cannot promise that you two will be safe here,” she continued, “But I have started turning the tide to try to give you a better chance. Also, I got the Magisterium to agree to a three-week hiatus before the next session. And I’ve prepared the estate in Qarinus for you to relax at for your honeymoon.”

“Bull can’t go to Qarinus.”

“Well, not _overtly_, no,” Aquinea agreed, “but, your husband is quite sneaky for a man of his size. After all, he snuck into Minrathous and met with Maevaris with no one the wiser.”

Dorian didn’t really know what to say. He had expected his mother to consider all the options, because that was what she _did_, but he didn’t expect how thorough in those options she would be. Frankly, he shouldn’t have been surprised, as she always seemed omniscient when he was a child. But he assumed when he grew up, he’d figure out her secret to knowing so much. Apparently not.

“You knew all this?” Dorian turned to look at Bull. He shrugged.

“More or less.”

“I shouldn’t have to speak on how to manage yourselves now that the pieces have fallen into place,” Aquinea added, “you know perfectly well what dangers await you here. So, be careful. Both of you.” She got up and left, but not before placing a kiss on Dorian’s head and patting Bull on the shoulder.

“You should commit that to memory.” Dorian nodded at Bull’s shoulder. “She rarely touches people.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, kadan.” Bull ignored Dorian’s words. “I didn’t mean to upset you with all the secrecy.”

“What would you have done if I had decided to not show up?” Dorian asked.

“You were always going to show up,” Bull replied, confidently.

“Was I?”

“Yep.”

“What if one of the Chargers had spilled?” Dorian asked.

“Then, I’d do the whole thing properly. Ask for your hand, bended knee and all.”

“Your knees are shit.”

“It’d be a sacrifice, but you’re worth it.”

There wasn’t a hint of amusement in Bull’s voice or gaze. Dorian hated it when Bull said romantic crap like that. Mostly because he adored it too much and it turned him into mush. He was never going to be able to pretend to be a badass ever again.

“You don’t even have a ring,” Dorian said, in lieu of actually using his brain and having an intelligent response. Bull reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a box that looked tiny in his large hands.

“Surprise.” He put the box on Dorian’s knee. Dorian stared at the box like it was going to bite him. With shaking fingers, he convinced himself to open the little box. An engraved silverite ring was settled on a bed of velvet. Dorian picked it up to examine the markings. A pair of stylized snakes wound around each other on the band. Inside the band had tiny letters proclaiming _“DP + IB 9:41_”. Dorian had no earthly idea how the craftsman who made the ring managed to get the letters so perfectly engraved inside them, but he absolutely adored it.

“Amatus…” His voice was thick and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“I got it when we went to Val Royeaux,” Bull admitted, softly, “I got the inside engraved when your mom reached out to plan our wedding.”

“You’ve been holding onto this for _years_.” Dorian stared at his husband, blankly.

“You held onto these necklaces for a year,” Bull reminded him, tugging on the dragon tooth gently. Dorian grabbed the tooth in a tight grip. He would never admit it, but he had developed a habit of stroking the bone whenever he was thinking or feeling particularly lonely.

“One year is a far cry from two and a half years.”

“Surprise.” Bull grinned.

Dorian had to kiss the stupid smile from his husband’s face before someone saw it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Lithuiwen2016** guessed it! Congratulations, you get a virtual cookie!


	34. Honeymoon

Dorian moaned, sinking blissfully into the hot water. Every muscle ached in that delicious, post-coital way. He forgot how much he missed it. They were nearing the end of the second week of their honeymoon, and somehow still hadn’t threatened to maim or hurt the other yet. Dorian smiled to himself and let his head fall back onto the edge of the tub, relaxing into the water.

The estate at Qarinus had an elaborate master bathroom, tiled on every surface with polished blue and silver stones. The tub itself was massive, able to fit five or six grown men without issue. It was built into the floor with pre-built benches along the edges, complete with fire runes engraved into the sides, keeping the water hot for a long time. There was a mechanism for emptying the tub that Dorian was certain Dagna would adore figuring out. He himself didn’t care too much about it, but he figured he needed to have her come visit, at least for a little while, so she could see and appreciate the marvels of Tevinter.

The first thing Bull had done, upon entering the estate, was declare that he was kidnapping Dorian to their rooms and no one should come looking for them. In fact, everyone should just go take a vacation. Dorian had rolled his eyes and tried to explain to his husband (the new title still made him a giddy mess whenever he thought it) that sending away the servants wasn’t as easy as sending away the Chargers. The Chargers, for their part, ignored the order to go on vacation and instead decided to dedicate themselves to figuring out the best way to secure Dorian’s estate both in Minrathous and in Qarinus. For some reason, they thought it was their job to prevent any potential intruders. Dorian didn’t argue, though Bull tried to, much to his surprise. Of course, when he started talking about how none of them were as smart as he was at making good defenses, suddenly his objection made sense.

Still, Dorian didn’t actually have to do much. His mother had ensured that only the bare minimum servants were even in Qarinus when they arrived, so Dorian didn’t end up sending anyone away. He started explaining the nuance of keeping up a full estate to his husband, but Bull got glassy-eyed, so Dorian gave up.

When Bull entered the master bathroom for the first time, he grinned at the size of the tub, happily remarking it was the first Qunari-sized bathing vessel he’d seen outside of Par Vollen. And then making a solemn vow to desecrate every inch of the estate, starting with the tub itself.

Which wasn’t quite how the plan worked out.

Bull changed his mind when he reconsidered the size and scope of his aspirations, instead deciding to start at the front door and working his way methodically through the estate. Dorian, for his part, understood how deathly serious his husband was, and didn’t even bother arguing about it. Though, because the staff was still around, they were forced to rush through certain areas. And Dorian made sure they went nowhere near the servants’ quarters. His area of the estate was fair game, but he drew the line at defiling the sanctity of the downstairs.

They hadn’t quite managed to take advantage of the tub yet, odd as it seemed. Dorian indulged himself with hot baths every night, partly because it was his honeymoon and he _could_ and partly to ease his aches and pains of pleasuring his husband all day long. Not that he could complain. He enjoyed every moment of corrupting his childhood home, replacing his hazy memories of a strict childhood with specific instances of delicious debauchery.

“If you drown, I’m not going to save you.” Bull’s voice had somehow gotten deeper in the two weeks they’d been lounging around. Dorian guessed it was from the constant groaning and growling. Dorian’s voice wasn’t much better, slightly hoarse and raspy, despite his best efforts to drink honeyed tea whenever he could.

“I don’t believe you,” Dorian informed Bull, not bothering to open his eyes or even move. It was the same conversation they had every night. Right before Bull slid into the water next to him. Bull slowly lowered himself into the tub, hissing softly as the heat permeated through his skin. All the soaking helping ease the ache in his joints. Dorian teased him that he was going soft. When he was fully seated in the tub, he relaxed against the side, running his fingers idly along Dorian’s collarbone. Dorian smiled.

“One of these days, I’m going to lose you to this bathroom. You’ll never return,” Bull teased.

“The tub doesn’t sass me,” Dorian agreed, lightly stretching his muscles.

“Well, that’s just no fun at all,” Bull noted.

“No, but it’s quieter.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who screamed so loud the entire estate woke up.”

“You caused it.”

“How’s your throat, kadan?” Bull asked, his fingers tracing up the side of Dorian’s neck.

“Better with that tea,” Dorian admitted, sitting up and catching Bull’s fingers with his own. He pressed a kiss to them, automatically. It was a good thing they weren’t in public, because Dorian lost all the restraint and self-control he possessed when it came to displaying affection for his husband. Bull adored it, Dorian could tell, even though he never said anything. Bull brought their joined fingers towards him and kissed the ring on Dorian’s finger. Dorian had to get one for Bull, he knew, but they’d been a little busy, so he hadn’t had the opportunity yet. Still, Bull took every chance to touch the small band, making sure it was still there. It was silverite, which was plenty expensive and told Dorian _exactly_ how long Bull had been saving up for it, but it also held magic pretty well. Dorian had been putting small stores of his magic into the ring every night, shaping it into a shield that would protect him automatically. He started explaining what he was doing to Bull, but got as far as “automatic shield” before his husband distracted him. Again.

“I’m glad.” Bull kissed the ring again and relaxed into the tub with a sigh.

“You know, I figured you’d be stir crazy after two weeks of doing nothing,” Dorian mentioned.

“I’ve been busy.” Bull shrugged. “I don’t have to be _fighting_ constantly.”

“Fucking me doesn’t count.”

“It does.” Bull’s eye crinkled in amusement. “Eating, sleeping, fucking… I can see why all you ‘Vints are so soft. I’d be soft if this is all I did all the time.”

“You’re already soft, amatus,” Dorian chuckled.

“Yeah, no.” Bull led Dorian’s hand under the water to the hard length of his erection.

“_Fasta vass_, aren’t you tired?” Dorian laughed, letting Bull pull him until their bodies were pressed together.

“I told you: I’m the needy one here.” Bull grinned. The expression was one Dorian knew well. It was the grin that, so long ago, he didn’t have a name for. But, time had given him a better look at the expression and he finally figured out what it was. It was pure and utter adoration and love. Dorian felt like an idiot when he finally figured it out. He tried to get that grin out of his husband every chance he could.

“Here’s where you’re wrong.” Dorian swung himself around so he was straddling Bull. He brought his hands up to the sides of Bull’s face, keeping him still. He touched their foreheads together, his hair falling in a curtain around them. “Because I haven’t said ‘no’, yet.”

“No, you haven’t,” Bull murmured.

“Guess you’ll have to try harder.”

“Nah.” Bull smirked, meeting Dorian’s gaze. “I’m just gonna accept that you’re perfect for me.” Dorian flushed.

“I’ve already married you,” he complained, “You don’t have to keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Making me fall in love with you.”

“I got news for you, kadan.” Bull reached up, tucking Dorian’s hair behind his ear gently. “I’m not gonna stop.”

“Kiss me, you insufferable lummox,” Dorian ordered.

“The things I do for you,” Bull teased, pulling Dorian down into a kiss that made his knees weak.

“If you hate it so much, then just stop,” Dorian breathed.

“There is no power in Thedas that could convince me to stop,” Bull replied, just as softly. Heart in his throat, Dorian kissed his husband again.

“I still can’t believe we’re married,” Dorian admitted, against Bull’s lips.

“We’ve been married a long time,” Bull corrected, “We just didn’t call it that.”

“Shut up. We’re married.” Dorian kissed him again and again. He thought he couldn’t get enough of Bull when they were merely in the Inquisition together. It only got worse when he moved back to Tevinter and they had to be separated. Now that they were _married_… Dorian wondered if he’d ever get any work done again. “No one can take that away either. My mother got the _Divine_ to marry us. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, you know that right?”

“Like I said: this is not news, kadan.”

“Shut up.” Dorian hoped the little giddiness in his chest never went away. It was addicting in the best way. Bull’s fingers buried into the length of Dorian’s hair, holding him still as Bull ravaged his mouth. Dorian moaned into the kiss. His hands were still holding Bull’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to move them. Part of him still thought it was just a lovely dream he was stuck in. Bull hadn’t bothered to keep his stubble in check the entire time they’d been locked up in the Pavus estate, so he had a genuine beard growing. He also had legitimate hair growing around the edges of his horns. Dorian wondered if he’d be able to talk Bull into letting it grow out.

Bull allowed the hand that wasn’t buried in Dorian’s hair to trace down Dorian’s form to find his hip. His hand fit so seamlessly in that spot that Dorian had to admit Bull was right: they _were_ perfect for each other. Dorian rocked forward, delighting in the shiver of arousal that slid up his spine as their cocks rubbed together. Bull sighed a soft moan. His hand pulled on Dorian’s hair gently, making him tilt his head back. Bull’s lips traveled down the long expanse of Dorian’s neck, expertly nipping at every sensitive spot. Dorian held on to Bull’s face, keeping him from pulling away, rolling his hips instinctively.

“Amatus…” Dorian murmured, trying to figure out what he wanted so he could tell Bull.

“I know.” Bull agreed, breathlessly against Dorian’s skin. The hand on Dorian’s hip lifted him up so Dorian was on his knees, above his husband. Bull reluctantly slid his finger from Dorian’s hair to grab his ass. Bull leaned forward, capturing Dorian’s nipple with his lips. He tugged on the ring gently with his tongue, making Dorian gasp out a low moan. He arched his back, feeling the lingering ache from their previous activities and adoring the sensation.

“Stop teasing,” Dorian whined.

“Can’t help it,” Bull murmured, shifting his attention to Dorian’s other nipple, “you’re so fuckin’ hot, kadan.”

Dorian moaned in response, hips rocking forward unconsciously.

“So beautiful.” Bull’s voice was ruined from the past two weeks, but it didn’t stop him from talking. “So good to me. You’re perfect, kadan.”

“Please…” In all the sex they’d had in the past couple weeks, they hadn’t done this. They’d done slow, they’d done rough, they’d done just about everything, but they hadn’t gone back to the praising. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. Whenever they did _anything_ out of the ordinary, Bull ensured that he cuddled Dorian afterwards, telling him every little thing he adored about him. The aftercare was almost better than the sex itself, in Dorian’s opinion. But still, Bull was going straight back to their first time together. Dorian would’ve liked to say that over the years he had gotten used to being praised. He would be lying. He was used to compliments in public. He was an attractive man, a talented mage, and a magister. If he _didn’t_ get compliments, that would be more odd. But the words that Bull said, crude and repetitive as they were, struck a chord deep within Dorian.

“I’ve got you.” Bull tilted his head back, looking at Dorian with a soft smile. “I’ve always got you, kadan.”

And fuck if Dorian didn’t just melt right then and there.

“My beautiful kadan,” Bull continued, fingers creeping towards Dorian’s hole.

“Didn’t we agree that teasing was mean?” Dorian asked, breathlessly, rocking into Bull’s hands.

“That doesn’t sound like us,” Bull chuckled, but obediently pressed his finger in, starting a gentle stretch, “you tease me constantly.”

“I do not,” Dorian whimpered as two fingers joined the first.

“You’re stunning. Just being around you is a tease.” Bull ignored Dorian’s words, returning his mouth to tasting Dorian’s chest.

“What? Should I be covered from head to toe when I go out?” Dorian didn’t know where he was finding his voice, but this torment was driving him insane.

“That’s just _asking_ me to rip your clothes apart.”

Dorian’s body jerked when Bull’s fingers pressed against his prostate.

“Amatus…”

“Say ‘please’.”

Dorian looked down at his husband, chest heaving with the strength of his arousal. That was _not_ fair. Dorian had been plenty polite in the years they’d been together. With the physical demands made of his body to accommodate Bull’s size (not that he was complaining, because he most certainly was _not_), it wasn’t fair that Bull now wanted him to _beg_. Rude. Instead of replying, Dorian rolled his hips, forcing Bull’s fingers deeper inside him. The large hand on Dorian’s hip tightened, holding him still.

“_Kadan_.” Bull’s voice was deep, dangerous, and Dorian adored it. He hadn’t heard it in a while. He forgot how it sent a thrill of pleasurable fear up his spine. Not fear of pain or what Bull would do, but fear of the unknown. Pushing his luck against his husband had given him several quite memorable and delightful experiences. It was too intense to repeat frequently, which is why Dorian didn’t do it often, but sometimes he liked being reminded of how powerful and dominant his husband was. (The part of him that hated himself liked to show off every irritating quality Dorian had, just to remind Bull that he was more work than he was worth. Not that it actually worked, considering the man had _married _him.) With how little they were able to see each other over the past year, Dorian didn’t push back at all when they _were_ able to be together. He was past due for a reminder.

“Fuck me,” Dorian demanded, feeling his legs tremble in anticipation of Bull’s reaction. Bull quirked his eyebrow up, watching Dorian carefully for a few tense seconds.

“Say ‘please’,” he repeated, calmly. Dorian both hated and loved that man. His fingers were _just_ off of his prostate, but his hand was holding his hips still, preventing him from being able to seek the pleasure he so desperately craved. “Kadan, say it and I’ll fuck you so hard, you forget your name.” A small, needy sound squeaked from Dorian’s chest. He bit his lip to keep from saying it. Bull smiled, a look that was as fond as it was fierce. “I see what you’re doing.”

“Doing? I’m doing nothing,” Dorian shot back, quickly.

“You’ll say ‘please’ or you won’t get fucked.” Bull pulled his fingers free from Dorian’s ass to cup the back of his neck. His face was solemn and his eye was focused. The intensity of his expression made Dorian shiver against him. He searched Dorian’s face carefully, silently asking if he was reading Dorian’s wants correctly.

“I’m a magister.” Dorian’s voice somehow was calm. “I get what I want.”

Bull grinned, but not the joyful one, the ferocious one, the one that made Dorian go weak at the knees and want to just roll over, spread his legs, and beg for it. He abruptly stood up and tossed Dorian over his shoulder. He climbed from the tub, carrying Dorian easily.

“What are you doing?!” Dorian knew _exactly_ what he was doing, but had a part to play as much as Bull did.

“If I’m going to have to remind you who’s boss, I’m gonna need supplies.” Bull’s voice was nearly unrecognizable, vicious and aggressive and _perfect_.

“What? I was just trying to christen the tub!” Dorian felt that he was defending himself admirably. Bull’s hand was hot and heavy on his ass as he took them to the bedroom. “You’re dripping water everywhere!” Bull kept Dorian over his shoulder as he wandered to the box of toys that they had accumulated over the years of being together. Dorian couldn’t see what he was digging for, but merely knowing what was in the box was enough to spark Dorian’s imagination.

“You’re not getting out this, kadan.” Bull’s words were a dark vow as he straightened, walking back to the bed. “You’re better behaved than this.”

“I’ve been perfectly good!” Dorian argued. Bull tossed Dorian unceremoniously on the bed. Dorian sat up on his elbows, trying to get a good look at what Bull had planned.

“You’ve been testing me and my patience.” Bull held a coil of rope in his hands. Dorian almost whimpered out loud. Bull tilted his head, eye roaming over the image of Dorian, naked and aroused in the middle of the bed. Dorian looked right back, appreciating the ability of his husband to loom in such a menacing manner. The effect only seemed to be magnified by the vast array of scars decorating the strong, thick muscles, to say nothing of the proud, jutting erection that stole most of Dorian’s attention. The correct reaction should have been anxiety or fear. Dorian knew he was messed up, because his reaction to a large, scarred, and naked menacing Qunari standing over his bed, rope in his hands, was pure arousal. Honestly, he had never felt safer than when he was alone with Bull.

“I’ve been myself.” Dorian managed to get out without stuttering. “If that’s irritating, then that’s your problem, not mine.” He was babbling. He needed to shut up. Bull quirked his eyebrow and Dorian clamped his lips shut.

“Your hands.” Bull’s voice brooked no argument. Dorian sat up and held out his wrists without thinking. Bull chuckled, a sound that went straight to Dorian’s cock. “Behind your back.” Dorian hesitated long enough that Bull took a step forward, a growl rumbling in his chest. Still, he wanted to push, not be intransigent. He scooted to the edge of the bed and put his hands behind his back, gripping his forearms. He’d been tied up a few times and knew what position Bull wanted him in. Bull passed the rope around Dorian’s arms with calculated precision. He took his time binding Dorian’s wrists together, being both thorough and careful. Dorian’s entire body trembled as Bull wrapped the rope diagonally across his chest one way, then the other, before crossing straight across his ribs. Dorian’s biceps were the next to be wrapped in the rope, anchoring to the cuffs Bull had made around Dorian’s wrists. Bull then cinched the whole thing together, securing Dorian in position without cutting off circulation anywhere.

“Am I a wrapped present now?” Dorian was shaking, belying the confidence of his words.

“See, I’d gag you, but I need you to be able to talk so you can beg pretty for me,” Bull replied, calmly.

“Gag? What did I say now?” Dorian summoned all the haughtiness he could, but he was pretty certain he was failing miserably at pretending to be unaffected by the situation at hand.

“Don’t move,” Bull ordered, turning back towards the box without checking to make sure Dorian would _actually_ obey him. It would’ve been insulting to Dorian’s pride that he could be so easily subdued, but he adored Bull like this. Still, he had to assert himself a little, else he was just giving in. And he couldn’t just give in so soon. They had just started. So, he laid back on the bed, resting on his forearms to keep his head upright. He stretched one leg out and let the other prop on the edge of the bed, no doubt looking like some obscene pornographic image. Bull turned back around, but Dorian couldn’t see what he was holding. His husband paused, looking Dorian’s new position over thoughtfully.

“I hope you’re planning on _doing_ something at some point tonight.” Dorian had found some confidence to push back. A little obstinance made everything a little more interesting.

“Your mouth has gotten you into enough trouble tonight, kadan.” Bull’s voice rumbled in his chest. “You tryin’ to make it worse?” He stalked forward, surprisingly light for a man of his stature. He wrapped a hand around Dorian’s cock, unceremoniously, making Dorian twitch and gasp in surprise. He hadn’t expected Bull to go straight for the goods. But then his darling husband had tied a piece of leather around the base of his cock, tight enough to make things uncomfortable, but loose enough that no damage was being done.

“Oh, fuck,” Dorian muttered, realizing what delicious torture he was in for. Once was Bull was satisfied the cock ring was sufficient to keep Dorian from finishing, he moved on to Dorian’s nipples. Or rather, the nipple rings. Bull added a clasp to the gold rings that had weighted balls hanging from them. Bull wrapped a hand around the back of Dorian’s neck, pulling him upright. The weights tugged at Dorian’s nipples, dragging a whimper from his throat. Bull _knew_ his nipples were absurdly sensitive. That’s why he did it.

Dorian didn’t know if he regretted the actions he took that led to this scenario or if he needed to commit it to memory so he could make it happen again.

“I’m gonna do whatever I want to your gorgeous body,” Bull informed Dorian, casually, “and, you’re gonna take it all without complaint. That cock ring ain’t comin’ off ‘til you beg pretty for me. Do you understand, kadan?”

Dorian swallowed tightly, trying to find his voice, which had gotten lost somewhere in the midst of Bull speaking.

“Kadan.” Bull leaned over, his face inches from Dorian’s, eye sharp and serious. “Do you understand?”

Dorian never wanted to kiss him as badly as he did in that moment.

“Yes, sir.” His voice was soft, barely audible actually, but Bull heard him. He almost surged forward to steal a kiss, but Bull beat him to it, one hand burying itself in Dorian’s hair to keep his head completely still. Dorian couldn’t do anything but take it. But, Maker, did he enjoy it. His arms instinctively tried to reach forward to touch, but they were stopped before they could go anywhere. Bull pulled back after a few moments, admiring the dazed look in Dorian’s eyes. Bull straightened, which put his erection ridiculously close to Dorian’s face. The hand buried in Dorian’s hair kept him from leaning forward for a taste. Bull chuckled and pulled just a bit, forcing Dorian to look up at him.

“You’ve been testing me all night and you think I’m just gonna _let_ you suck me off?”

Dorian bit his lip. Bull stole another kiss, his tongue sweeping over the lip in question.

“No, kadan, you’re in trouble.” Bull stood again, pulling Dorian to his feet. “Don’t move.”

“Yes, sir,” Dorian mumbled. Bull walked back to the box, making Dorian’s chest tighten in anticipation. He whimpered out loud when he saw Bull pull out another few coils of rope and a wooden pole. Bull smirked at him and started stringing the rope up to the canopy of the massive master bed. Dorian bit his lip to keep from making more of those noises. Bull enjoyed them far too much. And Dorian needed to stay strong. All too soon, Bull had grabbed the ropes across Dorian’s chest, pulling him forward. He first dropped to his knees to work on Dorian’s ankles. He trapped the wooden pole between Dorian’s ankles, forcing Dorian’s legs wide apart.

With skilled movements, Bull then bent Dorian over, tying the knots around Dorian to the rigging he’d set up. The ropes were tied such that Dorian couldn’t stand up if he wanted to, as there would be too much pressure on his shoulders and his legs were too far apart to gain some leverage. Once he was done, Bull stepped back to admire his handiwork. He walked around Dorian, making him feel like he was up for sale and Bull was determining if he was going to buy. Bull stopped beside him, making Dorian suck in a breath. The anticipation was killing him. Bull took the mass of his hair and pooled it over his shoulder, baring his throat. Dorian expected the lips and tongue and teeth on his neck. He didn’t expect the hands that reached around and flicked the weights on his chest, sending a shock of pleasure straight through Dorian. He whimpered, trying to keep himself still. Bull told him to stay still. He _had_ to stay… _kaffas!_

One of Bull’s hands had, without touching Dorian at all, reached down and rubbed a finger firmly against Dorian’s hole.

“Amatus!” The word came unbidden to Dorian’s lips.

“Yes, kadan?” Bull asked, sweetly, still kissing Dorian’s neck. The only points of contact Dorian had with his husband was the lips on his neck and the finger at his hole. He needed more than that. His whole body trembled in need. But he couldn’t give in yet. Nothing had even _happened_ yet. Dorian flushed and bit his lip, to keep any more words from escaping. Bull chuckled again and nibbled softly on Dorian’s earlobe, drawing goosebumps out along Dorian’s entire side. Abruptly, Bull pulled away, leaving Dorian feeling bereft. The cock ring was keeping him hard as a rock, the ropes were keeping him perfectly still, and the weights were keeping him focused, but the lack of Bull was a little distressing.

Bull’s tongue replaced his finger, drawing a shocked cry from Dorian’s throat. He didn’t hear anything, had no idea Bull had moved to stand behind him. But he was feeling it now. He had been rimmed time and time again by his husband, each time as pleasurable as the last, but this was worse. (And by “worse”, he meant “so much better”.) With Dorian’s legs spread, Bull had full access without touching him anywhere else. So the only point of contact between them was Bull’s tongue. Dorian shut his eyes, throwing his head back as he moaned, long and low. The lack of contact was driving him mad. Bull was always touching him. Always finding reasons to make skin-to-skin contact. The lack of that was going to kill Dorian.

“_Festis bei umo canavarum_,” Dorian whimpered, somehow finding the words through the haze of lust in his mind.

“Don’t understand Tevene, kadan,” Bull replied, pausing for only long enough to get the words out. His tongue penetrated Dorian, making him gasp for air.

“Yes, you do.” Dorian knew for a fact that Bull knew more Tevene than he pretended to. The man was a spy. And his second-in-command was Tevinter. If he didn’t know at least a _little_ Tevene, he was shit at his job. Instead of replying, Bull just chuckled, sending vibrations through Dorian. Dorian’s whole body jerked when Bull’s tongue delved deeper, pressing against his prostate. Dorian gasped for air, trying to keep his body still, like Bull told him to. It was so _hard_ though.

“This will be over if you just say ‘please’,” Bull reminded him. It wouldn’t be so difficult if Bull would just _touch him!_ Stubbornly, Dorian worried his lip between his teeth, holding the word back. He could do this. He was a magister. He could outlast Bull. Eventually, his husband would give in and _have_ to touch him. At Dorian’s silence, Bull laughed. Dorian heard Bull shuffle around and opened his eyes to see what he was up to. It was a critical error on his part to give into his curiosity. Bull was kneeling beneath him, face level with Dorian’s erection. His his breath was hot and heavy against Dorian’s skin. A finger, suddenly slick, penetrated Dorian, making his muscles clench unconsciously. Bull’s eye was focused entirely on Dorian’s face. Slowly, he leaned forward and took Dorian into his mouth, tongue circling the head of his cock. Dorian couldn’t look away if he tried, though he couldn’t stop the needy, desperate noises from escaping. The image of Bull on his knees, lips wrapped around his cock, was too much to handle. But Dorian _couldn’t_ finish, as much as he wanted to.

“_Fasta vass_,” Dorian groaned, eyes watering with the effort of keeping himself from rocking forward into Bull’s mouth and backward onto his finger, which was pushing firmly on his prostate. Dorian was going to lose his damn mind. The pleasure was too much. It was nearly painful how badly he wanted to cum.

“Say ‘please’,” Bull ordered, sliding off Dorian’s cock with a wet _pop_. Dorian sucked in air and shook his head. He was shaking in the effort to stay still, but he couldn’t give in. Not yet. He needed to get Bull to _touch_ him. Bull’s mouth left him and his finger abandoned him, making Dorian groan in disappointment. Bull stood in front of Dorian, legs spread obscenely. He reached over Dorian’s back to plunge his finger back inside Dorian’s ass. His finger started to thrust lightly in and out of Dorian’s hole. The weights tugged on Dorian’s nipples even more with all the new movement. All he could see, though, was the massive girth of his husband. Not that it was a bad thing to look at, but Dorian knew _exactly _what was about to happen, and if Bull wanted to get Dorian to beg, this was _not_ going to work. Dorian enjoyed tasting Bull too much. He didn’t realize he had leaned forward until Bull’s hand in his hair stopped him in his tracks.

“Nuh uh.” Bull held Dorian in place, hovering just over Bull’s cock. “You gotta ask, first.”

Dorian wanted to _kill_ him. He abruptly understood Bull’s torture. He knew how much Dorian thrived on physical touch and how much he adored tasting Bull’s skin. And he wasn’t going to let Dorian do _any_ of that until he begged. Still, there was the ever-present reminder of his arousal, prompting Dorian to just _obey_.

“May I suck your cock, sir?” Dorian had said the words before. They shouldn’t have been difficult or embarrassing. Not with what Dorian was wearing, standing in the position he was in… the words should’ve been easy, but Bull’s gaze was so oppressive.

“Good kadan.” The praise gave Dorian a thrill of pleasure. Pushing back against Bull was all in good fun, but it was the _praise_ that turned him into a mess. Maker, Dorian was messed up. “Yes, you may.” Bull guided Dorian’s face down until he could press his cock through Dorian’s lips. Dorian moaned at finally, _finally_, getting to do something. He had fallen out of practice when they were forced apart, but the past two weeks helped him work up the stamina to take Bull all the way down his throat. He breathed carefully before swallowing Bull down that far, holding that air while the cock blocked his airway.

“Fuck, kadan.” Bull’s fingers trailed through Dorian’s hair, letting him be in control for the moment. “You’re so good at this. Can’t believe you can swallow me down like that. Fuck, you were just made for my cock, weren’t you?” Dorian moaned in response, suppressing his gag reflex with practiced ease. “That’s what I thought. You’re such a beautiful cocksucker. It’s a shame you’ve been so bad this evening. I’d love to just let you worship my cock, like you do so well. You’d look fucking gorgeous, kadan.” Bull’s words filtered through the lust of Dorian’s mind, being heard but not really understood. He was so intent on tasting every inch of Bull’s cock and the sensations of the light thrusting from Bull’s fingers combined with the swaying of the weights that Dorian missed exactly what Bull was saying. He knew the words filled his chest with a light, happy bubble of pride, but that was about as far as his mind went.

“But you getting to suck me off isn’t a punishment for you, is it?” Bull’s hand on the back of Dorian’s neck stilled his movements. Dorian breathed through his nose, trying to concentrate on what Bull was saying. “You enjoy it too much. And we can’t have _that_.” With that, Bull held Dorian’s head still and began thrusting, fucking his face carefully. For all his words and the _feel_ of being forced into it, Dorian knew that at any given moment, Bull was prepared to stop everything to make sure Dorian wasn’t hurt. Part of him was still terrified of losing control, and while he wasn’t always so measured when they were fucking, he was _meticulously_ restrained when it came to Dorian’s mouth. So, as much as his cock was thrusting into the back of Dorian’s throat, making his eyes leak with the strain, he never let his cock go farther than that, despite plenty of evidence that Dorian could physically handle it. Even with the supposed punishment, Bull was taking care of him.

“Kadan, your pretty mouth is so good.” Bull kept talking the whole time, ratcheting Dorian’s arousal higher and higher. As abruptly as he started, Bull stopped, pulling Dorian’s mouth all the way off his cock. Dorian whined wordlessly at the lack of contact. Bull’s finger, an anchor in his ass, was joined by two others, stretching him wide.

“Amatus!” Dorian’s voice was ruined by the fucking his throat had just endured.

“You know what you have to say, kadan.” Bull’s fingers thrust inside him in a particularly brutal manner, drawing a gasping cry from Dorian. His other hand stayed buried in the silky, dark locks, keeping Dorian perfectly still in his position. Dorian couldn’t take it anymore. The sheer agony of overwhelming pleasure would’ve been enough, but that combined with the distinct lack of physical touch was too much. He had pushed enough. It was time to let go.

“Please, amatus!” Dorian croaked out. Bull lifted Dorian’s chin, his eye searching Dorian’s face carefully. Dorian knew he looked like a mess. His lips were swollen from all the biting he’d been doing, his makeup was streaked down his features from the deep-throating, and his hair was a tangled disaster with all the tugging and pulling his husband had done. “Bull, amatus, sir. _Please_. I need you.”

“You need me to what, kadan?” Bull wasn’t teasing him.

“Please, fuck me,” Dorian begged, wetting his lips absently, “I want to cum while you’re filling me up, sir. _Please_, fuck me.”

“Okay, kadan.” Bull leaned forward, stealing a gentle kiss. “I’ll fuck you nice and good.”

“_Please_.” He was whimpering now, a complete mess of a human whining and begging at his husband’s feet.

“Shh.” Bull pulled his fingers from Dorian’s ass. “I got you, kadan.”

“Please, amatus, please.” Dorian didn’t know if he was even still talking anymore. He just _needed_. Bull kissed him again and again, drawing a hoarse “please” from Dorian’s throat every time their lips separated. Bull moved around Dorian, his scalding touch trailing lines of fire along Dorian’s skin as suddenly he permitted them to _touch_. _Finally!_ Dorian knew he was making all sorts of noises, hoping some of them actually turned out to be words, but all he could think about were the hands running along his back, easing the ache that was starting to appear. For all the begging and torment, Dorian was completely unprepared for when Bull’s cock breached his ass. Dorian cried out, entire body jerking at the penetration.

“Shh.” Bull’s lips touched the back of Dorian’s neck softly. “It’s okay, kadan. Just let go. I got you.”

It was too much. The ropes, the inability to move, the weights, the cock ring, being split in half… Dorian was sobbing in over-stimulation. Bull reached around him, quickly freeing Dorian’s erection from the ring. The release in pressure almost made Dorian cum right then and there. Bull’s hands never stopped touching him, silently trying to make up for the previous lack of touch. And Bull never stopped talking. Dorian heard adoring words of praise, but he couldn’t tell you exactly what his husband said. He panted for air, rocking up on his toes to try to relieve the pressure on his arms, maybe get a new position that would let him cum. The new position was easier on his arms, but it put him severely off-balance for Bull’s thrusts. Bull wrapped his hands around Dorian’s hips, keeping him from losing his balance. He rode Dorian harder, faster, deeper than Dorian could ever remember being fucked.

Dorian came like a slap to the face, abrupt and sudden and almost painful in its execution. He screamed, entire body pulsing in time with his throbbing erection as it shot rope after rope of cum all over the end of the bed and floor. Dorian’s brain floated into a post-orgasmic haze, not even _feeling_ anymore. Bull’s long, low groan of “kadan” accompanied his own orgasm, his cock pulsating inside Dorian. Dorian lost track of time after that. He recognized when he could stand up, because it eased the ache in his lower back. Then, the wooden pole was removed, allowing Dorian to straighten fully. Only a few moments later, the ropes binding his arms were removed, followed shortly by the weights being pulled off. A warm, wet cloth ran carefully over his body, cleansing the remains of their orgasms from his form carefully. Which was when Dorian realized Bull was holding his face in his massive hands, looking into Dorian’s eyes.

“Can you take some breaths for me, kadan?” Bull asked, softly. Obediently, Dorian sucked in air. Bull gently coaxed Dorian to the bed, where he wrapped as much of his body around Dorian’s as he possibly could. “Fuck, you’re flawless, kadan,” Bull murmured into Dorian’s ear, his hands rubbing smoothly over Dorian’s skin, “so gorgeous. Can’t believe I got lucky enough to be with you. You’re so brilliant. Smartest person I’ve ever met. I’m so glad you married me.” Dorian slowly came back to himself, letting Bull’s words wash over him in a soothing wave.

“I’m okay,” Dorian said, as soon as he wasn’t high on his orgasm.

“You’re better than ‘okay’, kadan,” Bull murmured, “you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

“Amatus.” Dorian pulled back a hair to let Bull see the clarity in his gaze. “I’m good.”

“Good.” Bull stole a remarkably chaste kiss. He pressed their foreheads together, shutting his eyes at the sensation. “Was that good for you?”

“It was perfect.” Dorian felt his lips stretch into a smile. “I love you, amatus.”

“I’m glad.” Bull stole another kiss. “I love you, too, kadan.”

They settled more comfortably in the bed, legs tangling together in a wonderfully familiar way. Bull demanded that Dorian drink some water, citing something about the stress of being tied up. Dorian didn't really listen to the explanation, but he obediently drained the cup dry. Bull laid back on the bed, letting Dorian drape himself all over, and kissing every inch of skin that came his way.

“You sure you’re fine?” Bull asked, softly.

“I’m better than fine.” Dorian sighed, letting his fingers trace a scar absently. “Thank you for everything. I just needed that.”

“Kadan, we’ve been fucking nonstop for two weeks. We’re _married_,” Bull spoke, softly, “and, you needed a reminder that I’m not going anywhere?”

It sounded stupid when he put it like that.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Dorian flushed darkly, betraying his words.

“Don’t lie to me.” Bull pulled him into a gentle kiss. “Not judging, just asking.”

“Sometimes, this all feels like a dream. That at some point I’ll wake up and be all alone, trapped in a world that hates everything about me,” Dorian admitted, almost under his breath.

“Well, it’s not a dream,” Bull promised, his fingers idly tracing the line of Dorian’s spine, “you’re stuck with me, kadan. Forever, remember?”

Dorian smiled and snuggled into the massive grey chest that he knew better than anything else. His husband’s chest. The Iron Bull. His _husband_. It still didn’t feel quite real, the title, but Bull’s strong heartbeat under his ear was all too real. Dorian drifted off to the solid reminder of reality, his fingers tangled with Bull’s. His last thought was remembering that he needed to get Bull a ring, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a doozy trying to get right! I hope you all enjoyed it, because I struggled with this for a long time, which is why this chapter is so damn long.
> 
> "_Festis bei umo canavarum_" means "You will be the death of me."


	35. What Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to the end, folks!
> 
> One more chapter and we're done!
> 
> Unless my brain or you guys supply me with more ideas...

“Magister Pavus, this is highly irregular!”

Dorian didn’t roll his eyes. He _didn’t _because he just looked at the man who had interrupted him. He had spent too much time with his mother, because the withering glance he gave the other magister was entirely Aquinea Thalrassian. The older man recognized it, because he immediately sat back down.

“You’ll have to be more specific.” Dorian’s voice was perfectly pleasant. “Irregularity is what I do best.”

“You think you can just waltz in here, demanding we change _everything_ after having _married_ a…” Another magister got to his feet to try to salvage the dignity of his contemporary. Dorian quirked an eyebrow up, making him trail off awkwardly. Dorian was _never_ going to take his mother’s lessons for granted ever again. Forcing awkard silence really _did_ work on stupidity.

“After I married a…?” Dorian tilted his head with faux-innocence.

“You very well know _what_!” The first magister had found his voice again.

“I married my amatus.” Dorian didn’t shrug, because Aquinea abhorred the motion. He lifted his palms upwards instead, giving off the same impression without upsetting his mother.

“A _Qunari!_”

Dorian just stared at the man. The Magisterium was a large, circular room with a raised dais in the middle, surrounded on all sides by tiered seats. The closer one sat to the front, the more powerful they were. Aquinea was seated in the second row, looking calm and placid with hints of mild interest. Dorian could see the irritation and rage in her eyes, though. His seat was still not even on the main floor, but he was one of the youngest magisters to be seated as close to the front as he was. He probably never would get that close, considering he wasn’t particularly popular with the other magisters, though his popularity with the other classes was astounding, especially after his marriage to Bull. Dorian assumed the whole Qunari bit would be a sticking point, but it seemed that the fact he married for love overshadowed Bull’s horns entirely.

The silence stretched on, making people shift uncomfortably in their seats. The Magisterium had only been back in session for a week since Dorian returned from his honeymoon. He was surprised it took that long for someone to bring it up. Still, while Dorian was speaking on the Magisterium floor was by far one of the most inappropriate times to bring it up. Aquinea looked about ready to verbally abuse the magisters in question for _daring_ to bring up such an inane subject in the middle of a session. Dorian couldn’t let that happen, if only because he needed to be seen as independent from her.

“You _married _a Qunari!” The second man repeated, once it became obvious the first had lost his nerve again. Dorian, in theory, knew their names, but he couldn’t summon them at the moment. Their names were inconsequential anyway. What mattered was the information Dorian _could_ remember.

“And you married a woman with no magic,” Dorian replied, easily, “I fail to see how our marriages have anything to do with coming up with legislation to help reduce crime and corruption.”

The second man murmured something rude in Tevene, hiding his exact words with a cough. It didn’t much work, as Dorian heard what he said quite clearly. Several of the magisters nearby shifted awkwardly, glancing wide-eyed at Dorian to see if he heard what had been said and what his reaction would be. Dorian had to take a deep breath and count in his head to keep from just attacking the man for _daring_ to say such a vile and disparaging comment about his husband.

“Did you cough, magister? Perhaps we should have a recess,” Dorian continued, feigning concern, “I would hate for you to have to suffer through the rest of this session if you’re feeling ill.”

It was so Aquinea that several magisters actually looked at her to see her reaction. As usual, her face gave nothing away, but Dorian could sense the wry amusement emanating from his mother.

“I’m not ill!”

“Oh, thank the Maker.” Dorian smiled at the man, making him stiffen in outrage. “That means that you meant every word.”

The outrage was swiftly replaced with a dawning realization. He knew, just as their audience did, that a fight between him and Dorian wouldn’t end well for him. Dorian was far and away more powerful than either of the magisters harassing him. The only reason they were sat as close to the front as they were was because they had both been in the Magisterium for as long as Dorian had been alive.

“You see, Magister Vadis,” Dorian remembered the name just in time, “I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. There _is _a fever running around, making people say all manner of things.” This was a man who had disowned his daughter for daring to be in love with a female elf. Even if he had kept his mouth shut, he was on the list of magisters to ruin. Maevaris and Dorian had a running list of magisters they knew couldn’t be swayed to their side. They had been working quietly to delegitimize their power and position. But, since Magister Vadis had so kindly stepped up to the plate, Dorian wasn’t going to be quiet about taking him down. Not after what he said about Bull.

“He’s definitely got the fever.” The first magister, whose name still escaped Dorian, jumped back to his feet. His arm grabbed Vadis’, trying to shove him back into his seat. “He’s got no idea what’s happening now.”

“Is that right?” Dorian tilted his head, staring at Vadis with utter focus and calm. “How unfortunate. I do so hope he begins to feel better soon.”

“I’m fine!” Magister Vadis yanked his arm from his friend’s grip, snarling at Dorian. “I’m not the one fucking an ox!”

“You’re being inappropriate, magister.” Archon Radonis stood up, silencing the soft muttering from the spectators. Dorian bowed to acknowledge the Archon and stepped to the side, giving up the floor without a fight. Radonis could probably just as easily kill him as help him, and showing deference never hurt. Radonis quirked an eyebrow up when both magisters dropped into their chairs, eyes trained on the floor. “Either challenge him to a duel or excuse yourselves while the adults are talking.”

“Please, pardon me.” The first magister got to his feet and bowed at the Archon, not daring to look up. “I seem to be feeling quite ill.” He scurried from the room without another word.

“My lord Archon, he has debased himself at the hands of our most hated enemy!” Vadis was stubborn enough to blatantly ignore the order Radonis had given him.

“It is my understanding that Divine Urian Nihalias performed the wedding ceremony himself.” Radonis glanced at Dorian, pretending like he had asked a question.

“I am quite fortunate in having my marriage blessed by the Divine,” Dorian agreed, bowing his head.

“He married a Qunari!”

“With the approval of the Divine, which is approval from the Maker himself.” Radonis wasn’t particularly devout, which everyone knew, but he was friends with Urian Nihalias. It was how they both remained in their positions of power for so long. “Considering that we have been working on negotiations with the Qunari recently, I fail to see how the race of Magister Pavus’ spouse has any merit on the new legislation he is offering for our approval.”

Dorian really would have liked to be the one to take Vadis down, but he wasn’t going to object. Having the Archon defend his marriage to the Magisterium was the greatest stroke of luck he ever had. _No one_ would want to mess with Bull on the off-chance that Radonis or Urian would come down on them. It was even better protection than Aquinea had given them. Dorian glanced at his other, who looked completely unsurprised by the transpiring events. Dorian almost scowled at her. _She_ had made Radonis step in. Damn her. Dorian could handle himself! Though, he’d probably have to thank her for helping secure Bull’s safety.

“Now, Magister Vadis, you have two options,” Radonis continued, almost bored in his delivery, “you can remove yourself from this situation and pray that your peers don’t hold your indecorous behavior against you, or you can continue this argument and reap the consequences of your vulgarity.”

All the blood drained from Vadis’ face. He muttered something under his breath and fled the room.

“That was disappointing.” Radonis sighed. “I am calling for a recess for the evening. We will pick up tomorrow with Magister Pavus offering his new legislation.”

Nobody moved until he was safely out of the room. Many magisters hurried out, trying to avoid the ire of the Archon. Dorian walked over to his mother and offered her a hand to help her to her feet. She took it, demurely.

“I was handling it,” Dorian murmured.

“And quite well,” Aquinea agreed.

“You don’t need to protect me anymore,” Dorian pointed out.

“I know, but your husband can use all the allies he can get.”

“That was _awesome_!” Maevaris met them at the door, grinning broadly. “Can we always get the Archon to back us up?”

“I was handling it!” Dorian pointed out.

“Yes, you were,” Maevaris agreed, easily, “but, come on… it’s the _Archon_.”

Dorian walked his mother home, ignoring the looks and stares he got _constantly_ since his wedding. He was used to being watched just by being an openly gay magister, but with a Qunari husband, suddenly he felt like all eyes were on him at all times. It was disconcerting. He felt very much like he was living in a fishbowl. Entering the mansion, he immediately spotted the absurdly large, muddy boots next to the little bench in the entranceway. Bull’s boots had been banned from entering any further to avoid putting unnecessary strain on the staff. Dorian grinned at the sight. Bull had been gone on some job since their honeymoon ended and Dorian missed his husband.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dorian called.

“Don’t be mad!” Bull replied, immediately. Dorian froze in the midst of taking his cloak off.

“What did you break?” He asked. Bull didn’t reply. Dorian huffed out an impatient sigh and walked into the foyer to see his husband lingering by the fireplace, hands behind his back.

“Lord Bull had an unfortunate incident with one of the tapestries.” Morven glided between Dorian and Bull, taking Dorian’s cloak and disappearing again.

“Traitor!” Bull snapped.

“Which one?” Dorian pretending to be irritated to hide his growing smile. His mother was right behind him and he couldn’t let her know how amusing he found the whole situation.

“The ugly one.”

“Could you be more specific?” Dorian bit back a laugh. Bull had very quickly accustomed himself to the layout of the mansion in Minrathous, complaining loudly about how all the décor was boring and awful. Aquinea was remarkably relaxed about the insults.

“I’m very proud of how you handled yourself today,” Aquinea interrupted the little back-and-forth with a gentle hand on Dorian’s forearm.

“What happened?” Bull asked, brow furrowing.

“Well, next time I see him, I might have to punch him anyway.” Dorian ignored Bull to respond to his mother.

“Nonsense.” Aquinea waved his words away. “You’ll handle yourself with the dignity and poise your station deserves.”

“What _happened_?” Bull repeated, walking forward to make his presence impossible to ignore.

“Mother, he can’t be allowed to insult our family like that,” Dorian pointed out.

“Don’t worry.” The little smile on her lips was a little concerning. “I’ll just have to have tea with him to settle this disagreement.”

A tiny thrill of fear slid up Dorian’s spine. Aquinea walked away, like she hadn’t just told Dorian she was going to murder a man in cold blood. Well, technically, she hadn’t said anything of the sort, but “having tea” was a euphemism for Aquinea poisoning people. Apparently, she was just as upset with his behavior today as Dorian was.

“Kadan.” Bull grabbed Dorian’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “_What happened?_”

“There was a magister in session today who couldn’t mind his manners and he started insulting you.” Now that Dorian wasn’t in the spotlight and his mother was gone, he felt free to shrug. “I remained calm and didn’t even threaten his life or anything. The Archon stood up and completely disavowed him and his views. That’s good news, by the way, as his support will help keep you safe from the other magisters. No one is willing to cross both the Archon and the Divine.”

“Your mother is going to kill a man because he insulted me?” Bull asked, tilting his head in confusion. Apparently, he had picked up on the euphemism, too.

“Of course, darling.” Aquinea reappeared at the top of the stairs. “_No one_ insults my family.” She left again as swiftly as she had appeared. Bull stared at where she had been standing for a few moments.

“What did he say exactly?”

“I’m not going to repeat it.” Dorian shook his head.

“I can handle it, kadan.”

“It’s not about sparing your feelings.” Dorian huffed out an impatient chuckle. “I know you don’t care. But it’s something that I won’t repeat because it’s offensive on many levels.”

“So? I’m curious.”

“Let it go, amatus.” Dorian stood up on his toes to kiss Bull. “Suffice to say that if you were a human female, one that was perfectly acceptable to the Magisterium, and he said this about you, most of the magisters would be lining up to kill him.”

“That bad, huh?”

“So, which tapestry did you break?”

“You’re really bad at changing the subject, kadan.”

“Tell me.” Dorian kissed Bull again. Bull’s arms wrapped around Dorian’s middle, affectionately.

“The one next to our room.”

“I never liked that one anyway.” Bull chuckled at Dorian’s words. “When did you get home?”

“Just a few hours ago. Morven told me you were presenting to the Magisterium today.” Bull tilted his head, asking a question without actually asking anything.

“That part was going fine until Magister Vadis decided to throw himself a fit because I’m an ‘ox fucker’ apparently.”

Bull’s face shut down instantly.

“What? So, it’s okay if _you’re_ insulted, but if _I’m_ insulted it’s a problem?”

“Vadis, you said?”

“Amatus.” Dorian sighed, rolling his eyes at his husband. “Come with me, I have a present for you.”

“A present?” Bull perked up. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t give you anything for our wedding, because you neglected to tell me we were even getting _married_,” Dorian explained, leading Bull through the mansion to his office. Bull hadn’t had the opportunity to spend much time in the Minrathous mansion, thanks to the honeymoon and the job, but Dorian had gotten him acquainted with the rooms he could claim for his own. He had an office, technically, but Bull hadn’t had a chance to determine what he was really going to do with it. At the moment, it was just storage for his inordinate amount of weapons.

“Still pissed about that, huh?” Bull chuckled. Dorian grabbed the box on top of his desk and handed it over. Bull smirked at the sight of the engraved silverite ring inside. “Kadan, you didn’t have to get me a ring.”

“We have the necklaces for you.” Dorian shrugged. “And the rings for me.” Dorian had gotten the ring engraved with the same _“DP + IB 9:41”_ on the inside, but the outside was a plain band, something Dorian knew Bull would prefer. Bull didn’t even hesitate in fitting the band on his short ring finger. The missing link only made the ring look bigger than it was. Dorian liked the look of it. Based on the glint in Bull’s eye, he liked it, too.

“Kadan, I think we should talk,” Bull said, slowly.

“Oh, no.” Dorian’s heart stuttered uncomfortably. “Please tell me I didn’t spend all that money for nothing.”

“You’re never getting rid of me,” Bull reminded him, tugging Dorian into his arms. He lifted Dorian onto his desk and stood between Dorian’s legs, keeping their chests only a breath apart. “I married you. Marriage doesn’t exist in the Qun, so you know how serious I am about this, about us.”

“What’s your point?” Dorian did _not_ like this conversation. He didn’t want to talk. Everything was going well. They were married, he was living at home, it wasn’t likely that Bull would be targeted by the other factions with both Urian’s and Radonis’ support, his mother was helping him… Dorian could never have imagined his life any better than it was. It wasn’t perfect by any means. His country was still so far behind and he wasn’t making nearly the traction he wanted to, and he never got to see or spend time with Ellana. Or the other friends he made in the Inquisition. Still… he was _happy_. And that was such a foreign concept that Dorian almost didn’t want to use that label at all.

“My point is: I want to retire.”

“You… what?”

Dorian didn’t even know what Bull had just said. He was pretty certain he lost all sense of hearing.

“Well…” Bull tilted his head, considering his words carefully. “Not _now_. But soon. Maybe in a year or two.”

“You… want to _retire_?” Dorian didn’t even know how to handle this new information, so his brain shut down.

“Sort of.” Bull sighed. “I’m not sayin’ this right. I think in the next few years I should stop running out and doing fieldwork with the Chargers.”

“But… what?”

“I’ve been workin’ with Krem on having him take over a few jobs here or there and he’s got a real knack for it,” Bull continued, “I’m not gettin’ any younger, kadan. And, I don’t exactly feel like runnin’ around Thedas on a shit knee and ankle just for the promise of violence.”

“You _love_ violence.”

“Yeah,” Bull allowed, smiling wryly, “but, I love you more. And I like what we’ve got. I don’t wanna lose this.”

“We’re together forever, remember?” Dorian finally found his voice. He reached up and touched Bull’s growing beard, searching his eye carefully. “You’d die of boredom if you weren’t running around Thedas.”

“Nah, I’ve got some ideas.” Bull grinned. “I’m still gonna manage the Chargers. And when we get some ridiculous job, I’ll step in and help out. Plus, Red’s still got her spy network. I’m gonna talk to her about steppin’ in and helping out with that. So, there’s plenty of shit for me to do. I’ve been fighting all my life, kadan. During training in Par Vollen, in Seheron, running around Orlais, with the Inquisition… It was the only thing I was good at for a long time.”

“You’re good at plenty of things,” Dorian argued.

“Which is precisely my point. I don’t _need_ to fight to be happy anymore. And, like I said, I’m not gettin’ any younger here. It’s time for me to move on. Maybe train a new set of Chargers. Get another whole team runnin’ around doin’ jobs.” Bull shrugged.

“You want to retire,” Dorian repeated, slowly. Bull nodded. “And just live here with me?” Bull nodded again. “For the rest of your life?”

“The only home I ever knew was Par Vollen,” Bull answered, softly, “before I met you. Since I can’t ever go back to Par Vollen, the only home I’ve got is wherever you are.”

And damn, if Dorian didn’t just melt right there. He thought that at _some _point, Bull would run out of ways to make Dorian feel all gooey and sickly sweet on the inside. Four years of being together and it hadn’t happened yet.

“Do you ever think we’ll get bored of each other?” Dorian asked, stupidly. His mouth just asked the question with no regard to what Bull had been saying.

“No.” Bull’s response was immediate and completely confident. The way he said that one word even made Dorian believe it.

“So, what? You think we’re just going to live together, fend off various assassination attempts from my countrymen, grow old together, and become angry, bitter old men, side-by-side?” Dorian tried to make his words a joke, but his heart was too much in his throat. “What do you take us for? Normal?”

“All of the above.” Bull grinned. “Except we won’t be bitter. We’ll be the irritating older couple who finish each other’s sentences and dote on our grandchildren just to annoy our kids.”

“Kids?” Dorian’s voice squeaked out.

“I mean…” Bull rubbed at his cheek, a little embarrassed. “If you want kids.” Dorian could not recall seeing his husband embarrassed before. It was absolutely, disgustingly adorable.

“_You_ want children?” Dorian asked, more than a little astonished. All things considered, he would not have pegged his husband as wanting to be a father. However, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Bull collected lost souls the way some people collected rare herbs or furs. Each and every one of the Chargers was, no pun intended, one of Bull’s charges. He helped raise them into a formidable force to be reckoned with. Frankly, Dorian should have thought about this sooner, because Bull absolutely showed every sign of being a good father. He was patient, honest, but firm at the same time. He was relaxed and gentle and light-hearted, but could very easily have serious discussions at the drop of a hat.

“I’d like to have kids, sure.” Bull shrugged. “Obviously, not literally having kids, but there’s always orphans running around. We could pick up a few. Raise ‘em. You know, all that domestic shit that you love.”

“I…” Dorian thought he was going to faint. “I can’t be a father. I’d be a _terrible_ father. I mean, _look_ at what I experienced!”

“I didn’t _have_ a father,” Bull pointed out, “we’re not gonna be your dad. And we’re not gonna be whoever knocked up my tama. We’re gonna be us. The Iron Bull and his sexy magister husband.”

Dorian rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you think this merits further discussion before we just _decide_ to have a _family_?!”

“Yeah. We gotta talk to your mom, or she’ll _kill_ us.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Kadan,” Bull chuckled at Dorian’s ire. He stole a kiss. “This is a decision to make together. And we don’t have to make it now.”

“Good,” Dorian breathed out, “because it’s one thing to hear about my husband deciding to retire from mercenary life to become a bankroll for his mercenary gang and also a spy on the side, it’s another thing entirely to have to decide to raise a family with said pseudo-retired mercenary.”

Bull laughed and kissed him again. And again. And again. Dorian almost forgot what they had been talking about with such a lovely distraction.

“Don’t you _dare_ mention children to my mother.”

Bull’s laughter brought a grin to Dorian’s face. For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t look quite so dim.


	36. The End of All Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We did it, guys. We made it to the ending. This ending kicked my butt, y'all. I've re-written this roughly 6 times. I'm not completely happy with is, as is, but I'm sick of it looming over my head. Thank you all for joining me on this journey. I have no idea why this ended up so godforsaken long. It doesn't matter, I will go down with this ship. Also, thank you all for dealing with the grammar issues. I do not have a beta, so I'm accepting my fate. This was a year-long adventure that was supposed to be like a half-dozen chapters and ended up being a behemoth.
> 
> Thank you all, once again, for dealing with my nonsense. Enjoy the final chapter!

You’re going to give in eventually. It’ll be easier for you if you just accept your fate now. She has you wrapped and we all know it. She’s going to be spoiled rotten by the time you’re done with her. I hope you understand that this is the end for your reputation. Anyone sees you with Jules and you’re totally fucked, kadan. She’s super cute, though, so I can’t really blame you for giving in to her charms. That smile melted your mom, which is saying something. Hey, don’t forget to bring back those cookies from that bakery on the corner. Jules likes ‘em.

_-A letter from the Lord Iron Bull to Magister Dorian Pavus, Dragon 9:55 (2049 TE)_

* * *

Amatus –

If you aren’t home by Ferventis, darling Julia will never forgive you. If you miss her birthday, you’ll have some serious groveling to do to get back into her good graces. If she sets the curtains on fire again, then you have to replace them, no help from the staff, either. I will not stand for that disastrous pink monstrosity of fabric that you were eyeing in the marketplace. It will have to be legitimate fabric in a legitimate style that won’t blind anyone from miles around. Don’t forget: Ell and her kids are coming to visit for a few weeks at the beginning of Solis, so don’t take any extra jobs on the way back home. Travel safely, my amatus.

_-A letter from Magister Dorian Pavus to the Lord Iron Bull, 2050 TE (Dragon 9:56)_

* * *

Dor,

I know we just spoke the other day, but my son has decided that he wants to write a letter to Julia. He’s not the best at spelling, and reading is a chore at times, but he’s adamant that he send a letter to your little one anyway. If Julia is amenable, Ethalen would love to receive a response from her. Also, please don’t judge my poor son. He doesn’t quite have a handle on apologies, yet.

Ell

_In an unpracticed scrawl beneath the note:_

Lia!

I’m gonna rite you letter like real adults do! Mama says shes gonna send it with a courier, really fancy! I no that your mad that I didn’t come to your birthday this year, but Mama said we couldn’t. I got you a gift, I promis. I hop you stay my friend, even tho I didn’t come to your birthday. Mama says I hafta make up to you to fix it. I think I should marrie you to fix it. Would that make you feel better? I’ll marree you if that’s what you want…

Your my best friend!

Ethalen Rutherford, Dragon 9:58 (2052 TE)

P.S. I got a cool rock to sho you when I come visit!

* * *

Did you see Ethalen’s note to Jules? It was pretty fucking cute, kadan. By the way, it’s pretty fucking stupid that I have to write you a goddamn note every time you’re in session. Honestly, what the fuck are these crystals for if I have to write you letters?

_-A note from Lord Iron Bull to Magister Dorian Pavus, Dragon 9:58 (2052 TE)_

* * *

I swear to fuck if that guy isn’t gone in the next two days, I’m ripping his spine out through his ass.

Don’t be so dramatic.

Why’d your mom invite him here anyway?

He apparently is a good tutor for magical children.

Better than you?

He’s taught several young mages.

So…?

He has had practice. I’ve never trained another mage.

So… I can’t kill him?

Nonsense. He’ll be gone tomorrow or I’m setting him on fire.

I knew you didn’t like him.

_-A scribbled note between unknown parties on the back of a monthly missive from the Magisterium, Dragon 9:60 (2054 TE)_

* * *

Lennie,

I can’t talk much anymore. Father says I have to go to a Circle for a while. He says my magic is too <strike>unpridictible</strike> unpredictable for me to be safe at home anymore. Daddy says I can come home whenever I want. Remember when you offered to marry me cause you missed my birthday? If I make it out of the Circle alive, I want you to marry me. Daddy says I’m being over-<strike>dramatac</strike> dramatic, and that I’ll come home for sure. I’m not so sure. The Circle is big and scary and lots of weird stuff happens there. But, Daddy gave me his sending crystal so I can talk to Father whenever I want.

P.S. Don’t tell Father or Daddy that I’m <strike>fritined</strike> scared.

-_An unsigned letter addressed to Ethalen Rutherford, 2054 TE (Dragon 9:60)_

* * *

We have the house to ourselves again. Bathroom. One hour.

_-A note scribbled on some torn parchment, Dragon 9:60 (2054 TE)_

* * *

Dor,

Ethalen is heartbroken that Julia won’t be able to visit for his birthday this year. I tried to explain to him about the Circle and her magic, but he’s pretty despondent. If you could take some time to explain to him what’s going on with Julia, it might help. If possible, maybe Julia could send him a letter? I’ve never seen him this depressed. Maybe we could let them use our sending crystals?

Thanks,

Ell

_-A note from Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan to Magister Dorian Pavus, Dragon 9:61 (2055 TE)_

* * *

Honored Magister Pavus,

Regretfully, I must write to you of a somewhat urgent matter. Your daughter, Julia, has been in an altercation with another young apprentice, yet again. Julia has refused to speak on the matter, saying that it has been dealt with. The apprentice in question has also refused to speak on what the origin of the altercation was. All we know for certain is that the other apprentice has a black eye and a broken nose, while Julia does not have any injuries whatsoever. I understand that she’s had a unique upbringing, but if this behavior continues, I will regrettably be forced to terminate Julia’s studies here.

First Enchanter Taenaris of the Carastes Circle of Magi, 2058 TE (Dragon 9:64)

_Scribbled beneath the letter:_

Good on her. Remembered that right hook I taught her.

* * *

Did you teach our darling and beautiful and talented daughter how to fight? Because if you did, you’ve got some serious explaining to do, amatus. She’s been in nearly a dozen fights since starting at the Circle. If they kick her out, her next option is in Minrathous. And I know how much you’d hate being so far away from her. She won’t listen to me in this matter, because you taught her how to throw a punch. Tell my mother I’ll be home for dinner. See how entertained she is by Julia getting into fights with other apprentices!

_-An unsigned note between unknown parties, 2058 TE (Dragon 9:64)_

* * *

Lia –

If it gets too bad up there, just run away. I know it’s stupid, and dangerous, but my mom will never turn you away, no matter what. She can talk Uncle Dorian into anything, so you’ll be safe. If you can’t get out yourself, add the secret password in your next letter and I’ll come break you out. Father told me all about the tricks Circles use to keep you captive, so I can get you out, no problem. Don’t worry about those idiots around you. They don’t know anything about anything. If they keep making a fuss about Uncle Dorian and Uncle Bull, just do what you did to the first couple idiots. I’ll wait for your next letter, but I’ve got a bag packed. I can be there in a couple weeks.

Ethalen Rutherford, Dragon 9:65 (2059 TE)

* * *

Threatening my family won’t work. If you think that my husband is some tame bull-man simply because he married me, or because he’s hasn’t been an active mercenary in several years, you have a lot to learn about the Qunari. If you think I’m just going to lie down and let you touch my family, you truly are an idiot. I am no mere mage. As far as my daughter is concerned, any attempt on her will result in death for you and all your constituents, without hesitation or mercy. The last time my husband got his hands on someone who wanted to hurt me, he ripped her limb from limb. Literally. If you have a death wish, by all means, continue on this moronic path. Otherwise, save yourself time and energy and leave us alone.

_-An unsigned note between unknown parties, 2060 TE (Dragon 9:66)_

* * *

Jules,

Do not leave the Circle. Do not use the sending crystal. Only your Father or I will come for you. Trust no one else. Remember what we taught

_-A mostly-burned letter found in a fireplace at the Carastes Circle of Magi, Dragon 9:66 (2060 TE)_

* * *

My amatus,

In light of recent events, moreover the fact that we survived said events, I feel it necessary to let you know that I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. Except Julia, but she’s different. I remember when we first met. I thought you were a massive brute. And then I found out you were a spy and I swore that I was going to end up dead. You had being with the Inquisition longer and so you had already proven yourself to Ell and everyone else. I figured you’d find something wrong with me. Or perhaps just take the tensions between our people out on me. Still, I was drawn to you. I couldn’t help it. Qunari had always been this big, mysterious entity to me, and there, in front of me, was the perfect specimen. And then you saved my life and I couldn’t believe it. It would’ve been so much easier for you if you had just ignored what was happening and just kept walking. I still don’t know why you intervened.

Twenty-six years you’ve been in my life and I’ve yet to grow bored of you. It seems so stupid and vapid to say it like that, but it’s the best way I think to phrase it. You keep my life interesting in a way only magic has ever been able to do. You make me irrationally angry and joyfully happy and you’re so fucking irritating at times, but I can’t stop myself from smiling when someone even mentions you in passing. I look like a complete moron in the middle of the Magisterium when someone tries to insult me by referring to your race and I grin like a lunatic in response. I hope you know, you utterly ruined me. I am completely incapable of being a normal magister. You convinced me to try a friendship, then a relationship, then a long-distance relationship, then a marriage, and then you made me be a father. I don’t know what I would have become had you not entered my life, but I know I wouldn’t be nearly as content as I am with you.

Despite the fact that you get sick a hundred times more often than I do (and the stripweed thing does not count), despite the fact that you drive me insane with what you’ve taught our Julia, despite the fact that you couldn’t pick our decent fashion if your life depended on it, despite the fact that you snore loud enough to wake the dead better than my magic, I adore you. Everything that frustrates me about you is also a reason why I could never let you go. I remember when we made the promise to be stick together forever. Part of me didn’t believe it would happen. Part of me was afraid to trust you. I’m sorry for that. But, I made myself give in. And you were right. Twenty-six years and you still haven’t gotten sick and tired of me.

_-The first page of a ten page letter from Magister Dorian Pavus to Lord Iron Bull, 2061 TE (Dragon 9:67)_

* * *

Uncle Dorian,

Thank you for letting me come visit your estate for <strike>training</strike> my continued education. <strike>Mama</strike> Mother requests an update via sending crystal once a week to <strike>babysit</strike> monitor my progress. I know I’ve been up to visit for a few weeks at a time, but I’m excited to stay for a long time so I can learn all about Tevinter. Mother says it’s a whole different world up there. She’s <strike>following</strike> accompanying me to visit. We should arrive by mid-Drakonis. Tell <strike>Lia</strike> Julia I’m going to be there for her birthday, so she better come out of hiding in her Circle to come hang out with me! Say hi to Uncle Bull for me!

Ethalen Rutherford, Dragon 9:67 (2061 TE)

_In a smooth script beneath the scrawled letter:_

If you get irritated with him, just send him back. –Ell

* * *

Honored Magister Pavus,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am so sorry to hear about your mother’s illness. I do hope she recovers quickly. I am writing to you because I received some interesting information that I thought you should like to be aware of. It is not of a political nature, but I’ve intercepted a letter between Julia and Ethalen. It appears that the two are quite taken with each other. If you have not had a conversation with Julia yet, now would be a good time to educate her on the details of a romantic relationship. I would advise that you have a woman help you with this conversation, as you do not have the relevant experience to help her fully understand what lies ahead for her. I would be more than happy to help, should you require it.

Thank you for the flowers. I think my husband was jealous of your attention, so he added an entire wing to our gardens. I have no idea why, because now the gardens are uneven, and he has to build a second wing just to make it even. Good luck with Julia. Please write if you need anything at all.

Lady Josephine Montilyet, Dragon 9:68 (2062 TE)

* * *

In fifteen minutes, I’m going to go take a walk in the gardens.

Do you want some company?

I would appreciate your company, yes.

It’d be my honor.

_Scribbled beneath the conversation between unknown parties:_

Does this mean that our daughter is at the flirting age now?

Apparently.

I’m not ready for this shit.

No one ever is.

I like the kid. Why couldn’t she be interested in a guy whose legs I can break?

It’ll be fine, amatus.

I hate this.

Remember when they “got married” during Summerday?

They were barely seven!

You cried anyway.

Why are you okay with this?

Josephine gave me some warning. I believe I owe you a favor tonight.

Are you trying to distract me with a blow job? ‘Cause it’s working.

_-A conversation between unknown parties, Dragon 9:68 (2062 TE)_

* * *

Krem’s finally decided to give it up. I think he and Maryden are gonna settle down in Orlais. She gets a lot of work there, still. He’s picked a replacement, but I want to test the kid before he takes over. I’ll be home before Jules gets home for break. When I get home, I have plans for you. I’ll give you a hint: drooling mess of a ‘Vint. Love you, kadan. Be back soon.

_-A note from Lord Iron Bull to Magister Dorian Pavus, Dragon 6:70 (2064 TE)_

* * *

Dorian,

Please read this to Bull, as it concerns him as well.

You two are horrible influences on my granddaughter. I found out she has been sneaking Ethalen into the Circle. I have no idea if anything physical has occurred, but it wouldn’t surprise me at this point, especially considering how you two have been actively encouraging this outrageous behavior. I might have gotten old, but I am not afraid to put you over my knee if you ruin my granddaughter’s chances at becoming more than either of us were able to be. Do something about this, or I will.

Magister Aquinea Thalrassian, 2065 TE (Dragon 9:71)

* * *

Honored Magister Pavus,

I am pleased to announce that your daughter, Julia, has undergone sufficient training to undergo the Harrowing. As such, I would like to formally invite you to the proceedings. She is quite a remarkable young woman and we expect great things from her. I do ask that you refrain from bringing her young man with you when you come, as the Harrowing is a delicate procedure and her strong feelings for the young man might interfere with her ceremony. I thank you kindly for your understanding in this matter.

First Enchanter Taenaris of the Carastes Circle of Magi, 2067 TE (Dragon 9:73)

* * *

Frist Enchanter Taenaris,

My husband, Lord Iron Bull, and I are overjoyed to hear to Julia’s prowess. We, along with my mother, Magister Aquinea Thalrassian, shall be there at the Carastes Circle of Magi promptly to witness Julia’s Harrowing. Unfortunately, I will be unable to comply with your request that we neglect to have her “young man” accompany us to her ceremony. You see, her “young man” has been her best friend for her entire life. Romantic intentions aside, Ethalen Rutherford is a very well-educated young man in his own right. He knows exactly what happens during a Harrowing and he will not disrespect his family’s name by causing a scene. Julia, as you well know, is quite an accomplished individual. Having her best friend present will not have any negative impact on her ceremony. So, Ethalen Rutherford will be accompanying me, my husband, and my mother.

Thank you for your understanding.

Magister Dorian Pavus, 2067 TE (Dragon 9:73)

* * *

Thanks for letting me come to Lia’s Harrowing.

If you break her heart, I’ll break your legs.

I understand.

No, he won’t. Your mother will never forgive me if I let him hurt you.

She’ll get over it. You’re soul mates.

Amatus, no.

Stop smiling at us, kid.

You two are just like my parents. It’s kind of funny.

_-A note between unknown parties, Dragon 9:73 (2067 TE)_

* * *

Dorian,

I do not approve that he did not ask for permission first, but I have spoken with Julia and she has made her opinion on the matter unequivocally known. As she is an adult, I will step back and let her live her own life. Still, it is improper how they handled it. I knew your influence on her would arise sooner or later. I had hoped it would manifest in her magical prowess, as yours is unparalleled. Unfortunately, she also seems to have developed your disdain for social niceties. For the love of your mother, please don’t let her become too wild. Oh, and tell Bull to stop worrying about me. I’m old, not dead. He might need a cane, but I can still manage to walk down a flight of stairs by myself, thank you very much. Your husband is such a soft-hearted fool. Bless him.

Magister Aquinea Thalrassian, 2069 TE (Dragon 9:75)

* * *

Mother, just let him worry about you. You’re very nearly ninety, for Andraste’s sake. He likes taking care of people and you like being doted on. I fail to see how his behavior is a problem. It isn’t as if you’re not enjoying every moment of it. Also, your granddaughter has given me very strict instructions to keep you alive until at least she gets married. She’s very fond of you and would like you to be present.

_-A note between unknown parties, 2069 TE (Dragon 9:75)_

* * *

_Magister Dorian Pavus and Lord Iron Bull_

_request the pleasure of your company_

_at the wedding of their daughter_

_JULIA AQUINEA_

_to the son of_

_Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan and Commander Cullen Rutherford_

_ETHALEN STANTON_

_Summerday, the third of Molioris (Bloomingtide)_

_Two thousand and seventy (Dragon nine: seventy-six)_

_at the Pavus Family Estate_

_Qarinus, Tevinter Emperium_

* * *

The reception of Julia Pavus’ wedding to Ethalen Rutherford was one for the histories. Held at the Pavus family estate in the Tevinter Imperium, a slew of individuals from all over Thedas made time to attend the festivities. Half of the noble families in Tevinter were invited, with another few from Ferelden and Orlais, at least one from Antiva, and that didn’t mention the leaders from the Free Marches. The nobility weren’t the only ones invited though. Common folk from across the continent made appearances, including the entirety of a mercenary band and a Dalish clan.

Magister Dorian Pavus was very distinguished from far away, and up close, it was no different. His long white hair trailed over his shoulders in a silky waterfall. His eyes were sharp and focused, piercing right through the guests under his grey eyebrows. He sported a beard, almost artfully styled. He had lines across his face, but they were faded strips of skin from an abundance of laugh lines rather than scars. He watched the guests mingle in his gardens, keeping one eye focused on his daughter floating through the crowd, her new husband devotedly following her around.

“Are you all right, kadan?” The soft voice belonged to a large Qunari, bigger than any person had a right to be, including other Qunari. Lord Iron Bull’s huge horns were lopsided, with a chunk of the left horn broken off. His hair was stark white and tied in a low ponytail on the back of his head. His left eye seemed to be permanently shut based on the scarring across the lid, contrasting starkly with his white beard. He leaned on a cane with a big grin on his face and a flowery pink robe draping his form, but it didn’t make him any less intimidating. Both men wore matching necklaces with a large tooth, which could have been dragon, though no one could confirm that, and a ruby gem.

The gentle look in Lord Bull’s eye was one reserved for his husband and his daughter. No one else, should they have looked at the couple, would be able to spot the softness between the two men. All they saw was one of the strongest magisters in the Magisterium and his large Qunari husband. Age had done nothing to dull the sharp edge of muscle on the Qunari, nor the quick mind of the magister. They knew, instantly, that the two could make anyone disappear with no one the wiser. And they would do it without hesitation should anyone prove to be a threat.

“I’m fine.” Magister Pavus sighed, touching his fingers to Lord Bull’s wrist with a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t look fine.” Lord Bull stepped closer, his hand running up Magister Pavus’ back. His fingers slipped under the grey hair to rub the back of his husband’s neck.

“Some idiot is drunk and is trying to make a scene.” Magister Pavus nodded at drunken fool. “He said some uncouth remark about Ethalen being a ‘knife-ear’.”

“I’m gonna break his legs,” the massive Qunari muttered, under his breath.

“Now, now, amatus.” Magister Pavus put a gentle hand on his husband’s wrist. “Julia will kill you if you ruin her wedding with something so silly.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow.” Lord Bull shrugged.

“Amatus…” Magister Pavus’ voice was fond.

“He insulted my little girl,” Lord Bull replied. No amount of damage to his eye or leg could convince the guests to try to take the lord on. Not with the look of murder on his face.

“I’m relatively certain Vivienne has already taken care of him.” Magister Pavus nodded at the elegant, elderly woman, skin dark and smoother than a woman of her age had any right to have. She was standing nearby the drunken fool, smiling politely even as her razor sharp gaze sliced through him.

“She’s pretty protective of the kids,” Lord Bull agreed.

“Not children anymore.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Both men turned to acknowledge Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan and Commander Cullen Rutherford. The Inquisition had long since died, but the Divine had made their titles a permanent fixture, to honor what the Inquisiton had been able to accomplish during its tenure. Inquisitor Lavellan wore a simple dress, but it was her metal arm that drew the eye. She had laugh lines all around her face, mimicking Magister Pavus’ in size and shape. Commander Rutherford managed to have dignified salt-and-pepper curls, shining with the memory of the gold they used to be. He also walked with a cane, leaning on it much more heavily than Lord Bull, but his genial smile said nothing of the pain he must’ve felt. Only Inquisitor Lavellan maintained the air of her younger self, managing to be youthful and mischievous even in her aging appearance.

“Well, I called it,” she said, walking up to Magister Pavus to lean her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders with comfortable familiarity. “You owe me ten sovereigns.”

“I paid for the entirety of this affair.” Magister Pavus sniffed, mock-haughtily. “I believe I’ve more than made up for that debt.”

“They look so happy,” Commander Rutherford noted, joining them in watching their children dance together, “it’s more than I could have asked for.”

“Well, this isn’t your last wedding,” Lord Bull pointed out, “doesn’t Amy have a young man she’s flirting with?”

“No!” Commander Rutherford looked aghast at even the notion.

“Amatisha will come to us when she’s ready.” Inquisitor Lavellan ignored her husband with a bright smile. She turned to Magister Pavus and mock-whispered to him. “Wait until he hears about Marevas.”

“What _about_ Marevas?” Commander Rutherford wrapped his arms around Inquisitor Lavellan’s waist, stealing her attention.

“Your youngest has a rather prolific reputation amongst the ladies in the south,” she informed him.

“He _what?!_”

“You happy, kadan?” Lord Bull asked, softly, ignoring the bickering from the other couple.

“Don’t worry, the world will collapse at any minute now.”

“You’re cute when you’re being cynical.” Lord Bull pressed a kiss to Magister Pavus’ temple.

“I’m approaching seventy, I’m not cute.” A smile bloomed over Magister Pavus’ face with the kiss, belying the indignation of his words.

“You’re barely sixty-five, kadan.”

“Yes, remind me that I’m old,” Magister Pavus snipped.

“You’re still fuckin’ hot.”

“Amatus!” The glower did nothing to stop Lord Bull.

“What? I’d fuck you.”

“I’m sure you do that regularly,” Inquisitor Lavellan teased.

“Yes, yes, you’re very smart. Shut up,” Magister Pavus muttered.

“Wait, is no one going to die?” Lord Bull looked around. “We throw boring parties, kadan.”

“You sound so very Tevinter, amatus.”

“Shhh… you’re blowing my cover, kadan.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

FINIS


End file.
